


Synergy

by MitsukaiMizuAmaya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitsukaiMizuAmaya/pseuds/MitsukaiMizuAmaya
Summary: syn·er·gy; noun. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Iliana came from a world of no consequence; tiny and hard to defend, only valuable for it's position in space to jump off to greater targets. She had served the Resistance when they controlled it. She served the First Order when they took it. Yet when she was alone at night, she dreamed. She dreamed of the Force.





	1. I am the Force

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own anything. I am but a broke college student.

* * *

Prologue

**I am the Force**

* * *

For my entire life, I have not felt pain. I would burn, and feel nothing. I would break bones, and feel nothing. I would grow sick with fever from infection, and feel no pain from it. It frightened my parents, but they loved me all the same. When the planet was still unaligned, doctors now long dead said  _congenital analgesia_. My parents kept it hush hush as best they could, and taught me to manage a life free of physical pain.

We lived on a world of no consequence; small and of little strategic value to either the New Republic or the budding First Order. When I was a baby, the First Order settled on the planet and took over. Father found affinity in their teachings, and readily joined up. I was ten when he died in a battle against the Resistance. We were told it was a glorious battle, one that ended in the First Order's favor, and that my father was a hero. But even that young, I could tell he was no hero. He was a foot-soldier who died for his beliefs.

Soon after, the Resistance pushed and took over my planet of no consequence. The order and strictness imposed by the First Order was gone. With it, came freedom. With it, came lawlessness. There was an order to it, of course, but everything moved so slowly. Needed to be talked out, debated, checked with a half dozen people before things got done. Mother took much better to that ideology, the one of freedom, and joined them. I stayed on my planet of no consequence as she left. She died when the planet was reclaimed by the First Order, when I was a teen.

When the First Order came and demanded my enlistment, I agreed. Not out of any belief in their ideals - I was ambivalent to both - but merely seeing that I would die otherwise. Not that I would feel the pain of however they decided to torture and kill me.

I was too old for proper indoctrination as a stormtrooper. I was too small and thin, anyway. They didn't know my mind, my skills, nor did they care. So I was given the background jobs. Cleaning, cooking, serving meals. The same sorts of things I would do for the Resistance while mother was away for meetings. Same job, same boss, different dressing.

It was strangely fascinating. So many had died in defense of, or to take over, a planet of no consequence. Both sides believed themselves just and correct. Both sides lost men, women, resources at the end of the day. And the people who remained, who called the planet home, didn't really change much. Colors changed, expectations changed, but people just went on with their lives regardless.

Occasionally, more high ranking members of the First Order would pass through this area of space and stay at my planet of no consequence. General Hux, members of the Knights of Ren (occasionally the infamous Kylo Ren himself), Captain Phasma, among others. They never came to the little outpost in my little town, but the soldiers and officers were a constant presence. And I served them with the same blank face and placid smile that I'd used serving General Leia years before. At least the general of the Resistance smiled and acknowledged me - even thanked me - when I served her.

But when I was alone, when I was home, I was myself.

I could feel the world around me. The crashing waves against the rocky shore outside, wild and corroding the slate. The wind beating against the trees. Words of the First Order blaring through loudspeakers installed on posts around the port. But through it all, something else. Something not evil, not good, not even both. But a... a Force through everything, inside everything. Not just peace, or just passion, not order or chaos, but everything added together to equal more than the sum of the parts.

And when I opened my eyes in my tiny requisitioned apartment to see how everything floated around me, saw through it all to the Force that lied between, I smiled. Because it was in everything, between everything, including me.

The Force is all things and I am the Force.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes, I went to go see The Last Jedi yesterday and it beat up my muse. :D


	2. The Ghost of the Hallaport Cantina

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill

* * *

Chapter One

**The Ghost of the Hallaport Cantina**

_"He's a wallflower. You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand."_

_\- Stephen Chobsky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower_

* * *

They came to me as whispers. Soft, quiet, in the back of my head. They came loudly after the Resistance killed my father. Loudly after the First Order killed my mother.  _You will see them again_ , they told me. As the First Order retook the planet, they led me from the base and back home, away from the carnage.  _Move here_ , they said,  _Step right, not left. Forward, then right again._   _Climb the hole in the fence. Run for the trees._ The whispers never really formed words, but I interpreted the instructions as them. Whether they were simply intuition or not, I will never know. But it guided me, taught me, and enveloped me when I laid in my hard bed after an even harder day.

Today, they kept me vigilant. I woke with a half hour to dress and eat before my shift at the port cantina. Straight, angular, dark uniform of the First Order on. Dark apron on top of that. Long, light brown hair in a tight bun on the back of my head. I was out with ten minutes to spare; thankfully, the cantina was just around the corner from the apartment complex.

There was some conversation, but not much. When the Resistance had control of Turshaval, there was almost always a cacophonous uproar in the cantina; colorful people of so many races and species talking and joking and eating. Now, under the First Order, things were more rigid. What I overhead about conversation was about work. Neither was... better, per se. The cacophony of the Resistance could be quite annoying, especially when short on sleep. But then again, so could the silence and murmuring.

I felt a whisper, and caught the box flying at the back of my head without blinking or even turning much. It was a box of gloves, thrown by one of the dishwashers, a smirking girl a bit younger than me with darker skin and dyed blonde hair named Malia.

"Good morning," I giggled.

Malia grinned, "I love testing those reflexes of yours, Ili."

"Thanks," I said dryly. I pulled on a hairnet and slipped on the gloves, "FC-1866 here yet?"

"Yes, now begin your duties," Came the calm, half-dead voice of the cantina lead from further back in the kitchens. One of the First Order, not a stormtrooper but memory wiped and raised from infancy for their role in feeding the armies. I stifled a laugh; he always sounded so soulless. I wondered if all the stormtroopers and their adjutants were like that, or only the troopers and those raised by the Order.

The dozen or so workers scrambled about the kitchen. Besides FC-1866, the rest of us were locals. Here when the Resistance had control, here with the First Order had control. Neither group cleansed the city of people during occupations; Turshaval was far too small, far too inconsequential for the effort by either faction. Not that the Resistance would have done it, but the First Order was definitely capable.

Soon, as the sun finally rose and it the long cantina tables through high-sitting windows, soldiers and other personnel filed in. Townspeople who were permitted to use the cantina came in well before any of the troopers or officers and used the smaller entrance I'd entered from the street. The First Order troopers, however, used a larger entrance that was open into the base proper. The troopers were always silent, but as I observed them, I could see that they still formed groups. Uneven groups, where when one accidentally strayed too close to another group, they would be non-verbally shooed away. I smiled, staring down at my cutting board as I crushed nutrient supplements for the troopers meal in a mortar and pestle. It seemed that even among the brainwashed masses, there could still be some sense of self.

FC-1866 called from the back, "Iliana, bring the nutrient dust!"

"Yes, sir."

I brought the mortar over and handed it to FC-1866. He dumped the contents in a boiling pot of gruel before handing it back, all without a word and without looking at me. I sighed with a twinge of annoyance and turned back to my cutting board. It was time to chop vegetables and herbs for the much more palatable officer meal.

A whisper nearly made me freeze. I kept my eyes on my cutting board, chopping away. But my mind was no longer just here. My perception was broader than that, larger than that. It encompassed the kitchen, the cantina, and beyond. I felt between and inside everything - how one officer was worried about a report due, another knowing his promotion was nearing - as I searched for the disturbance. Then, it happened. Malia handed an officer's meals to one of the servers, a man named Nunes (servers were only used to give meals to officers and higher; the troopers would line up at the gruel-filled "buffet" for theirs). As he walked, slightly nervous to the imposing officers table, one of the officers backed up from his chair without a word of warning.

A smack, a clatter, and a trip sent Nunes and the plates in his hands flying. My heart leaped, but I didn't show a thing. He would be severely punished for wasting food, especially if... oh no. The plates were going to smack right into some of the officers.

I focused in those split seconds. Focused hard, on chopping while keeping my eyes down... and stopping the plates and food from falling. There was no sound in the whole cantina, and I looked up, feigning shock like the rest. The food and the plates had frozen. Without so much as moving my eyeballs, I painstakingly guided the food back to the plates and the plates to the table in front of the officers. You could have heard a pin drop, it was so silent.

Then, commotion. FC-1866 was loudly summoned by an officer and ordered to punish Nunes. From what I heard when he pulled the poor server in the back, he was to be on scrubbing duty for weeks. Still a lot better than what would have happened if the food had hit any of the officers. Several of them were muttering to themselves and looking around the room, no doubt trying to figure out how the seemingly impossible feat had happened.

"Here; you're sweating again," Malia handed me a paper towel.

"Thanks," I swiped at my forehead and neck before tossing the paper towel in the nearest trash. It was... draining to do what I just did without moving my hands or giving myself away. I scooted a bit further from the nearest active kitchen burner and chuckled under my breath, "Must be too close to the burner."

"The ghost strikes again," One of the line cooks for the officers, Petra, said quietly. We always tried to be quiet; the kitchen had an open view of the cantina, and no one wanted to get in trouble with the powers that be for being too loud.

I could feel Malia's eye-roll as I smirked and kept on chopping veggies, "Well, I wish the ghost would be a bit more helpful in the kitchen then."

I was almost offended, "Didn't the ghost stop you from dropping a whole pot of gruel last week?"

"Th-that was one time!"

Her voice pitched a bit, and suddenly FC-1866 appeared out of nowhere, "Quiet in there! I am writing a report on today's incident."

In unison, most of the kitchen staff said, "Yes, sir."

That was the extent of the conversation for the rest of my shift. I could feel the officer's - all low ranking, judging from their uniforms, but still miles above where I  _ever_  wanted to be - suspiciously eyeing the room. I let my mind open to them, and winced; their thoughts were excruciatingly loud, and though I could barely understand them in all their obnoxiousness, I knew one thing. This was getting reported higher up again. I was going to have to be more careful for a while. The ghost of the Hallaport cantina on tiny little Turshaval would have to lay low for a while.

At the end of the day, well after sunset, I finally clocked off. Malia caught me outside, "Want to go hang out tonight?"

"Tomorrow," I said with a small smile, "I've got plans."

She puffed out some air, "Okay... wanna walk together home?"

My smile widened into a true grin, "Of course!"

All the locals press-ganged into working for the First Order base were required to work near enough to said base. The official reason was for efficiency; I knew it was mostly to keep tabs on us. There were cameras on all the stop lights, both for ground vehicles and the few air cars. Every corner housed even more. At least the streets were immaculate, the very few allowed bushes trimmed to perfection. Buildings, all sharp angles and shades of gray. Modules installed in a blocky way by the First Order when they retook the port and reestablished their base.

Malia and I chatted about this and that, nothing of importance really, until we were already ascending the steps of the apartments, "Do you think the ghost is real?"

"Well, you saw what happened today," I shrugged, "Seems obvious to me."

"Could it be, you know..." Malia looked around and dropped her voice, "The Force? You know, um... like, a Jedi hidden here?"

I kept my face smooth and raised one eyebrow. She was right to keep her voice down; who knew how many surveillance cameras were in the building. I rolled my eyes, "They'd be a really stupid Jedi if they outted themselves to the Order just to stop a couple plates falling."

"So... like, a real ghost then?!" Malia half-squealed.

I laughed, "Maybe."

Malia left first; her apartment was on floor three, while mine was two more up, on five. I wedged inside and immediately flopped on my bed, feeling the days exhaustion catch up with me. Stopping the plates without so much as looking at them, while keeping myself as unassuming as possible, really took a lot out of me. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but so long as I was careful the next few weeks, it would be fine. I'd heard stories of the Jedi and those with the Force; if that was what I was, I never wanted to be found out. Just left to obscurity on a tiny planet no one really cared about in an out of the way system. Then, left alone, I could be free, in a way.

I pushed myself up and sat in bed, looking around the tiny apartment. Nearly a third of it was taken up by my bed; a small alcove in the wall held one stovetop, a tiny toaster oven, and a microwave. One small cabinet, built into the wall. A maybe 2 foot by 2 foot shower stall, also embedded in the wall. All in all, the width of the whole apartment was the height of my short body and the length maybe twice that. Tiny, but I didn't mind.

Because I sat up in my bed, I let my mind wander. Back to the waves crashing violently against the port shores. The trees that swayed peacefully on the other side of the town. Birds that chirped in their huge, gnarled branches. Two such birds, together repairing a nest for their tiny little eggs. I watched them, feeling that energy that wove through it all.

Then a larger bird came. The two fought against it, but it was stronger and fought them up. As I watched with my wandering self, the nest the couple worked so hard to build was torn apart. The eggs were broken, contents slurped up as the two tiny songbirds tried to stop the huge black one. And then, as soon as it'd come, the larger one was gone. The couple hopped back to their nest and poked around a bit before flying off themselves. There was nothing there for them anymore.

It was... sad. But again, it was life. The stronger bird took what it wanted because it could and because it needed food just as much as any other creature. The circle of life was not kind, but necessary. Either evil, nor good. It just was.

* * *

Everything was ordinary the next few weeks. I showed up at work, joked with Malia and sometimes Nunes and Petra for a bit until FC-1866 eventually told us to be silent. The troopers were as dull as lifeless as ever as they collected their nutrition gruel. At least I was hardly ever on gruel duty; I was far too good at cooking in general. Usually, it was prep or line cooking for the officers for me.

One day I came in as normal, well before the cantina was open, only to see that everyone was waiting at one of the cantina tables instead of already starting their duties for the day. I slid into a seat between Malia and Nunes, leaning towards the former, "What's up?"

"I dunno; FC-1866 told everyone to wait here for a meeting."

My eyebrows shot up, "... meeting?"

She didn't get a chance to say anything, because FC-1866 stepped out of the cantina back room, hands behind his back. We all stood in unison, as expected of us, until the First Order cook gave us leave to sit. He looked strangely... nervous. The closest thing I'd ever seen to emotion on the conditioned man's face.

FC-1866 coughed, "I will keep this brief. We are to expect the Finalizer in Turshaval orbit in a week."

There was a moment of silence. My eyes widened just a bit; it wasn't the first time that the Finalizer had been in orbit here, but the last time had to have been at least two years ago, during a failed attempt by the Resistance to retake the planet. Most of the fighting for that one had been elsewhere; no one really cared about Hallaport. I'd seen the colossal ship in the skies though; it was hard to miss, even on planetside.

"Sir, we're usually not so uh... formally informed of stuff like this," Malia said, "Is anyone important coming to Hallaport?"

"Yes," A chilled ripple ran through the cantina staff. That was never a good sign, "I do not expect anyone of importance to come to the cantina beyond the ranks we normally see, as there is a more personalized and higher ranked kitchen further in the base for them. But I was instructed by the head chef to inform you all."

"Whose coming all the way to Hallaport and why?" Nunes half-muttered. FC-1866's eyes narrowed, and the server quickly added, "... sir."

"You should know who by the mention of the ship name," FC-1866 said, tone a bit stony, "As for the latter, that is none of our concern. Now, back to work."

We scattered, all going to our respective stations in the kitchen and hurrying with our tasks. The whole place was in a titters with this new information, but we mostly kept our words to ourselves because FC-1866 was watching us all like hawks. So it wasn't until shift was over and Malia and I were walking back to the apartments that we began talking about it.

"Who controls the Finalizer?" I asked. It was such a large ship; it  _had_  to be someone important.

Malia shrugged, "It must be... well, Lord Kylo Ren I'd imagine. Or General Armitage Hux. Or both, from what I've heard."

"Lord Kylo Ren? The Sith?" A bit of cold went down my spine. I reached out to the whispers as they walked, but they were strangely silent.

"Yeah."

My brow furrowed as we entered the apartments, "What could he want in such an unimportant place like this?"

Malia shrugged, and as we came to her floor she rounded on me, her hands up and wiggling about, "Maybe it's to find our ghoooost~!"

I laughed and playfully smacked her hand, "Goodnight, Mal."

"'Night, Ili."

But as she turned, my smile vanished. I walked up the steps to my apartment, slid inside, and sat on my tiny bed. Anxiety seeped into my stomach, clawed at my insides. So I took a deep breath, and examined it as the whispers instructed wordlessly in the back of my head. It was not a bad thing. Fear was not a bad thing, so long as it didn't control me above all else. I would make every effort not to be found. As the anxiety lessened, I almost smiled. I could have some fun with this, if Malia  _was_ right. I doubted it; it was much more likely that they'd received a tip about Resistance activities on the planet. FC-1866's reports about our 'ghost' probably didn't get that high up, and even then...

A bubble of anxiety returned. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to explore the order and chaos of my mind on my own, without deference to the opinions and paths of others.

I closed my eyes to examine the anxiety. To feel it within me. It was there, a valid emotion, and I would use it. Shutting things in wasn't healthy, and neither was letting it control me. When I opened my eyes again, I was determined. These men; they would come for whatever they came for, but if it was the 'ghost'... they wouldn't find it.

* * *

True to what he'd said, the Finalizer arrived in orbit a week later. It was gigantic; so large that when I held up my thumb to the sky, stretching my arm out as much as I could, my whole thumb couldn't cover it. The whispers talked to me, warning me to be wary, and I was. This wasn't the first time someone with an ability like mine had been in Hallaport. I had sensed them before, but they never sensed me. Mom taught me well; I kept my condition well concealed just as I kept my ability a secret. Well, beyond the odd helping hand, that is.

"The troopers and officers won't be coming to the cantina today until late," Malia said when I got to work.

"Why?"

"Something about drills and ceremonies to welcome the arrival of the Finalizer," She said quietly so FC-1866 didn't overhear us from the back room, "And I was right; it  _is_  the Lord Kylo Ren and General Hux leading the landing party."

I raised an eyebrow, "You saw them?"

"No, but Nunes did; his apartments on the other side of the base, closer to the main entrance they went in."

"I only saw a bit," Nunes said with an eye-roll, "I was like... a half a mile off when the the transport landed in the base. All the stormtroopers all lined up perfectly was pretty impressive to see, though."

"Yeah, and the propaganda has been blaring all morning."

"News and welcomes, Malia," I reminded her. Calling the First Order newscasts 'propaganda' was... well, correct, but not the smartest thing to voice.

"Yeah, yeah, well  _I_  think-"

"Stop talking and work!"

We all silenced with a final, "Yes, sir!"

True to what she'd said, none of the officers or stormtroopers showed up to the cantina until just before sunset. When the first wave came in, I felt something strange. A presence, searching, somewhere far away but also far too close for my liking. I closed my mind, cut it off, and envisioned everything melting. Envisioned the Force and ability within me dissolving into the background. Nothing special, just the ambient Force of the world around me. The presence faded too, but I was smarter than that. I kept myself faded, my walls up.

"What're you smiling about?" Malia said from the stovetop next to me.

"Nothing," I said, "Nothing at all."

That night, as I laid down the rest, I dreamed with the whispers. They warned me not of danger, but of caution.  _Be cautious, Iliana_ , they said. As I fell deeper and deeper into the blissful darkness of sleep, my dreams grew more vivid. More real. So real that I could touch my surroundings. I could taste the air.

_I was in a long hallway. Sleek, ordered, immaculately clean. Rooms to one side, glass to the other. When I looked out the windows, I saw a sea of people in white helmets and armor. Stormtroopers, training, exercising, practicing their stances. A flash of silver and black as one, different from the rest, instructed some._

**_Not there..._ **

_It was further down the hall. I followed the whispers, feeling oddly... floaty. Here and there I went, but the whispers always urged me on in the right direction. They always did._

_Soon, I was before a door. Large, metal, somewhat oval on the edges. I entered it, merely moving through the door like a ghost. Inside was many people at many stations with buttons and readouts and lights I didn't understand. They were all in the same uniform, all the same. Save for the one in the center. He had ginger hair, slicked back with too much gel and with the air and uniform of someone far more important than any officers I'd seen at the little cantina. He turned to say something I didn't catch to an officer, who nodded and left. I moved out of the way so they didn't go right through me, not that it would have mattered._

_Because as they left, another entered and **did** go right through me._

_I froze._

_So did they._

_Right inside me._

_The ginger haired man turned and regarded the person standing where I was and said something. I didn't catch it, because I was drowning. Anger. So much anger it was suffocating. Sadness-tinged rage. Torn apart. I was being torn apart. Yet I couldn't feel the pain, because I cannot feel pain._

_This person stepped back towards the door, saying something to the ginger-haired man. I could breathe again, and turned to face him, the sinister ginger-haired man forgotten. They were gone in a flowing movement of black robes. I followed, curious at what could cause such unchecked, reckless anger. Emotions were to be controlled, channeled, harnessed and understood. But this person had such a wild torment of emotions that I knew him dangerous._

_From the back I saw they wore a black helmet, clamped tight against their head. They were black from head to toe, save for some silver embellishment along the mask. After a long walk, up some stairs and down some halls, they disappeared through a door. I stopped outside and after a moment felt a... a **pull**  into that room. But it wasn't the whispers pulling me. It was whoever was under that mask. Yet the whispers said nothing beyond  **caution** , so I drifted inside._

_They faced me and spoke in a strong, metallic male voice that was obviously altered, "You are the one I was sent to find."_

**_He cannot see you, but he feels your presence. Caution._ **

_I didn't say a word, and he didn't either for a long moment, "Give me your name. Make this easy on yourself."_

_I wanted to laugh, but I kept silent. I felt irritation rolling off this man in waves, "Give me your name. **Now**."_

**_CAUTION. CAUTION._ **

_I felt fingers in the back of my skull. There was a pressure, a strange poking sensation like he was trying to pull open my mind and see my every secret. I got the feeling that this was supposed to hurt. Pressure, as my mother taught me, usually meant pain if it went too far. He thought he would give me pain to get my secrets. I put up my walls and faded back, faded away into the world, and I wanted so badly to laugh. But I didn't, heeding the words of the whispers, and I sent my feelings his way instead. As I faded back into the world as I was meant to, the man roared with his anger._

* * *

The next day I was on the line, cooking meals for the officers with a couple others. About halfway through feeding the non-local First Order members, another squad came in. Five stormtroopers to join the fifty already there, but one was different than the rest. They wore shiny metallic armor with a large black cape embellished with a red strip around the edge. They looked around and sat with the officers while the regular stormtroopers sat with the rest. I recognized the silver one from my dream the night before, and just looked back down at my sautée pan.

Nervousness in my stomach bloomed, and as I stirred the officer's food, I examined it. There was nothing to be nervous over; nothing was wrong here. This was not a bad feeling, merely an expression of the whispers constantly telling me to be cautious. They could not hurt me, even if they tried.

I slid the pan off the stovetop, plated it, handed it off to Malia for garnish before she handed it to Petra to serve. Potato hash with onions and peppers. So very, very much better than the gruel the stormtroopers ate. It was always strange, the disconnect. But the troopers were too brainwashed to mind.

I let my mind wander, but I was careful. I kept it to the room, because I didn't trust the stormtrooper in the silver armor. She scanned the room in silence, movements too sharp and purposeful for the average trooper. Too intelligent.

Petra served the meal to a couple officers and I nearly broke my calm facade to sigh in relief. Nothing happened. Nothing would happen.

I reached to pull ingredients from a higher shelf. It was difficult; I had to stretch and reach because I wasn't the tallest. In fact, I was quite short. I felt a bit warm, so close to the stovetop, but didn't think of anything being wrong until it was too late.

As I finally got the ingredient and brought it back down, Malia exclaimed, "Ili, your stomach!"

I snapped back and looked down. Sure enough, there it was. A burn, straight through my apron, undershirt, and searing my skin. It was pink, raw, and I knew the whole thing would blister. And I hadn't felt a thing, of course. I hadn't expected to.

"You need to get that covered or something-!"

FC-1866 poked his head in from the back, "Quiet in there."

"Sir, Iliana's burned herself," Malia said.

I shot her a look. She didn't know about my 'tolerance' but still; I was raised to take care of these things pretty well myself. FC-1866 gave me a pointed look. I turned around with a sigh and showed him, and his eyes narrowed, "Five minutes. Get in the back and bandage it."

"Yes, sir."

I heard a crash as I finished applying some ointment and bandages from a small kit in the back room. Hearing the commotion, both FC-1866 and I stuck our heads out and he immediately pushed passed me. There was poor Nunes, on the floor by the officers, having tripped up again. At least he'd had the good sense to maneuver the plate  _away_  from the officers this time.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The officer closest to him, who I assumed had accidentally backed his chair into Nunes, was shouting at the poor server. I muttered to myself, "Bark is bigger than his bite."

I retreated and faded my mind back, eyeing the silver-armored trooper who seemed to survey the situation with interest. I slipped back into the kitchen as FC-1866 half dragged Nunes into the back room. Malia volunteered to clean up the mess and I went back to the stove-top. Soon, the silver trooper stood and left without a word. Eventually, sometime after that, FC-1866 stopped yelling at poor Nunes. That man was never going to get off pot-scrubbing duty now. I almost felt bad, but I can't really help a situation when I'm not there.

That night I slept fitfully. No dark men full of rage, slicked-back men, or silver troopers to distract me. I was merely the background again; one with both the order and chaos of the world around me.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just so you know; spoilers for TFA in this one, and eventually possibly spoilers for TLJ too.


	3. The Game is Over

**Disclaimer:**  I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Two

**The Game is Over**

_"When you find yourself in the presence of a lion, it's best to know which side of the cage you're on."_

_\- Joel T. McGrath_

* * *

_The Resistance was not called the Resistance when it first took Turshaval. They were merely part of the Republic military, reclaiming a planet taken by the First Order without permission. General Leia Organa had led the group in the retaking. My mother and I lived closer to the capitol then. I clung to her leg, careful not to lean on my bandaged leg too much. I'd just gashed it wide open a couple days ago, and hadn't noticed until my pant leg was soaked with blood. Mom hadn't been happy._

_"And who is this?" A woman with hair just barely beginning to turn grey down a bit to smile at me._

_She had a kind face, but I shrank back anyway. Back into the floor and the walls, the whispers told me. Fade away._

_Her smile faltered a bit, as if sensing something. My mother said something to her, and her look softened, "Is that so? Little Iliana, why not join us up here?"_

_I didn't want to, but I did. The older woman's gaze was piercing. But the whispers seemed okay with her, so I eventually shrugged and came out from my hiding. Mom sat down at the table with the General and I hopped up in the one between her and a black-haired boy who was just too freakin'_ _**tall** _ _and was all lanky and teenage and_ _**boy** _ _._

_I hadn't left the life-stage yet where boys were anything but gross._

_My mom was talking to the General, so I just stared down at my plate of food. The other man at the table, tall and with a roguish look to him, leaned in with his elbows on the table. His eyes twinkled, smiling without smiling, as he looked right at me, "So you're Amali's daughter. How old are you?"_

_I gulped and swallowed. The boy next to me shifted and I blurted out, "Eleven!"_

_The man chuckled and leaned back. I decided I liked him. He was nice and fatherly, if a bit strange. Much nicer than my strict father had been._ _**Had** _ _been._

_The General and her husband, Han Solo, and the boy I was eventually told was their son Ben, kept coming back to the capitol over the next couple months. Making sure the government was reestablished here, talking to people who were important and boring things like that. I had a much better idea._

**Show me. Show me your better idea.**

_I scrambled it all. Darkness seeped in, clawing at my mind with thick black tendril-like fingers. Faded back, neither into the darkness nor the light. The presence was angry. It tried to force me back, to show them more. But I kept fading. Always fading, always hidden._

I awoke in a bed of sweat. Someone had tried to break into my mind. They already got too much; they'd seen me and heard my voice. Though the dream was fuzzy around the edges and the people within not entirely clear, they had to know my hair color. Gender. Skintone. But they'd only seen me at eleven. I looked miles different now, at twenty-five.

But that didn't settle my flip-flopping stomach. This was getting dangerous. I stood up, slowly, and crossed my legs. The sun was far from rising still, so I would probably be better going back to sleep. Examine it. Examine the emotions. Use them, let them guide you, but you control them, Iliana.

Then, I smiled. I knew what I would do, and opened my eyes to get ready for work a bit early.

The next night, I was ready for them.

_I was running around the base at the capitol. There were not many people around, and I just wanted to stretch my legs. Mom was talking to General Leia down the hall, and warned me not to go too far. She was always too protective, given my-_

_My hair was black and eyes green when I turned the corner and knocked into Ben. I fell to the floor with a squeal and he looked down at me in shock for a moment. He reached out a hand and I took it, "Are you okay-"_

_I was a boy now, blonde and laughing at something the big grizzly bear-looking person said. Han said his name was Chewbacca. He was cool, I guess. A little scary at first, but he was really just a bit old teddy-_

_I pulled back my fiery red hair and smiled at General Leia. Mother had to run off for something; she was kind of a big deal in the-_

**_Stop. Show me true. Your face and name._ **

_The presence pushed harder, but I merely directed the push away. My mind was walled, and there was no window. No doors. No entrance. Yet the presence pushed, and it pushed and it pushed..._

_And then it raged, for it could find nothing. I merely faded away. Back into the surroundings, back into the Force, back into the-_

_I turned a corner and saw Ben by a window. Levitating a small stone above the sill, looking out the window with a strange expression. A conflicted expression._

_"Are you magic, mister Ben?" I bounded up, red-black-brown-blonde long-short-bald hair bouncing. He didn't flinch when I put my tiny hands on his leg, stretching to get a look at the stone better._

_"It's not magic, it's the Force," Ben sighed. His eyes narrowed, and he looked troubled. Or he was just annoyed by me. I was pretty good at annoying him in month his parents were here to reestablish Republic control._

_"The Force?" I reached up for the stone. It shifted away, and out of the corner of my eye, he was smiling. Just a bit, "What's that?"_

_"It's in everything, powers everything, controls everything," Ben said, still looking out the window, "And I can control it."_

_"So it's like the whispers!"_

_He started. The stone dropped, and Ben looked down at me with raised eyebrows, "Whispers?"_

_I nodded vigorously. Holding out my hand like he had, I focused on the little stone. There was that stuff between it. I never had a name for it. Mom told me not to do this in front of anyone, but Ben was nice. Ben could do it too._

_The little stone floated, and he stared at it. Ben looked from it to me, alarmed, "Y-you, you can-"_

_"This is Force, right?" I giggled, "Force, like you can do!"_

_Ben looked back at the stone. He did that almost-smile again. The stone floated for a moment before falling back to the windowsill, and he turned back to me, "So does that mean you're coming with me?"_

_I blinked, "You're leaving, Ben?"_

_He nodded, excited, "My uncle's a great Jedi. He's going to teach me to be one too. We're going to another planet, everyone's going to know us!"_

_I considered it, but then the whispers came. They warned of caution. I shook my head, "Nope. Mom said I'm not supposed to show anyone. But I think..." I tilted my head, remembering General Leia's face when we first met, "I think you mama thinks I'm weird."_

_"It's not weird; it's powerful."_

_I shrugged. Someone was calling for me. I turned around and saw mom at the end of the hall, looking exasperated. I'd run away from her again to go play. I didn't really understand why she was so protective. If I was just careful, it was fine. I knew I didn't hurt like normal people, but still. I wanted to play._

_"Mama's calling; goodbye, Ben!" I leaned up, way on my tippy-toes because the fifteen-year-old was just so dang_ _**tall** _ _, and kissed his cheek like mama did whenever she had to say goodbye._

_Goodbye, Ben._

_Goodbye, Ben._

_Goodbye._

I woke up, drenched again in sweat. This wasn't a game anymore. I pushed myself up, willing my wildly beating heart to still. No. I had to try harder. My eyes narrowed as the sun slowly illuminated my room. They would  _not_  find me. They would  _not_ touch my mind again. I threw up my mental walls and faded again. Smaller and smaller, falling back into the world around me. Calm. Examine your emotions. Use them for strength. Release. Like the whispers taught you, Iliana.

Why did the presence - who I am assuming is the black-cloaked man - bring up  _that_  memory? It was over fourteen years ago; just some boy I'd known for a month and played with. Well - I chuckled - I did most of the playing. He just seemed annoyed at me all the time, and broody. But he  _was_ the one who gave me a name for the power behind the whispers. I'd always been thankful for that.

For the next week, I played no more games with the presence. I didn't help when I few more kitchen accidents happened. Malia told me we weren't the only kitchen where people were seeming to be more clumsy than usual. She'd heard that they were in other parts of the base, too.

When FC-1866 came and asked if anyone here had skills with electronics and wires, I raised my hand readily. Anything to get out of the kitchen for a bit, where I could feel the presence just waiting for me to slip up and give myself away. Evidently, an electronics technician had angered the wrong higher up. I didn't ask what happened to them, because I already knew.

It was a small panel in a wall. I'd done some work like this with the Resistance, just before mom died and the planet was retaken. Another First Order trooper, LN-5821, gave me a set of tools and kept watch. Of course he did; I  _was_ a local, after all. Not one of their brainwashed masses. I stripped the wires where the short occurred. With a small solder, I sealed the edges of the wire together and re-wrapped them. Sealant, electrical tape, and some finagling later, and the job was done. I replaced the panel, put the tools away, and handed them to the trooper.

He - I knew it was a he from the voice - led me back down the hall, "You will be returned to the cantina to resume your duties."

They rarely seemed to speak, except to instruct. Never questioning, never speaking out of turn. I wondered what would happen if they did.

I'd never been inside the First Order outpost. It wasn't nearly as big at the one at the capitol, and looked too modular. I remember when it was build; it was as if the whole place went up overnight, many buildings near the shore demolished to make room for it. The trooper was taking me a different way than the one we came. When I asked why, he gave me the one word "Training" excuse. I assumed that meant that the way we came was too close to the training hall, which was active now.

We turned a corner, and suddenly I froze. Not because I recognized this hall from my dream. The glass windows overlooking the training stormtroopers, the hall to the right that I knew led to where I'd seen the ginger-haired man. I froze because I saw him. But he wasn't there. I saw him, clear as day, but he wasn't here. It was as if I was seeing two places at once.

His back was too me. Helmet on, black robes billowing around him. When I saw him, he felt me and began to turn.

He vanished just in time, when the trooper smacked my back and I stumbled forward, "Keep moving."

"Sorry," I muttered, rubbing my back. It didn't hurt, of course, but mom taught me to try and pretend things that would hurt someone without my condition did hurt me.

As we walked, I wondered why. What just happened? I hadn't been asleep, I hadn't opened my mind. And I nearly got caught.

The rest of the day, I spent in the kitchens of the cantina in silence. It wasn't out of the ordinary, not with how FC-1866 always yelled at us if we spoke above a whisper, but Malia still noticed. She mentioned my quietness when we walked home, but I just smiled and shook my head. I was fine. I was fine.

A week later, I was not so fine. When I walked into work, FC-1866 was waiting and flanked by stormtroopers. A few others still had to arrive, so we all waited in relative silence. Everyone was tense. Malia looked like she was about to bolt. Then, finally, once everyone arrived, the First Order member spoke, "Our great Lord Kylo Ren has ordered that all local employees of the outpost submit themselves for interrogation."

"Interro- we haven't done anything!" Nunes was half out of his seat, but a stormtrooper forced him down again. The tension rose, and I took a deep, calming breath.

"There are reports of Resistance forces planning an attack to retake the planet," FC-1866 said, "You will all submit yourselves for interrogation to root them out."

All. Everyone. All local 'employees'. That was hundreds of people. Submitted to First Order interrogation. I couldn't help the shiver that raced up my spine. And the empathy; empathy for my coworkers, who would be submitted to this with me. Just to find some information about the Resistance, if there even was any.

_Pretense. Caution._

They were here for me, not the Resistance. Do I give myself up now? Save the rest from interrogation? This wasn't a game anymore. If I spoke up, I could stop their interrogation. But then I would be caught. And forced to do who knows what for the First Order.

 _You know what_.

Blood. Carnage and battles. Blasters overhead, next to me, beams of light. Red and blue, clashing together. Snow. The man in the black robes, without his helmet, back to me. Another, with brown hair and fierce eyes, blue-beamed blade in hand.

I ripped myself from the vision as FC-1866 ordered us to stand. Petra didn't go fast enough. I was, and slid myself behind her just as the stormtroopers blow came down. I stumbled a bit, but collected myself and stood straight. My back felt warm.

"Are you okay?" Malia asked in a whisper.

"Silence," One of the troopers said as we were marched out. I flashed Malia a smile and nodded.

We were herded into the training floor. It was full of people. At least a couple hundred, most in various types of uniforms. But some weren't. At least a quarter were in street clothes. Pulled off the streets for an impromptu interrogation. All of these people. All of them, for me.

Above me, on a balcony overlooking the training but just below the next level, came three figures. The ginger-haired man, the silver-armored trooper, and the man with the black robes and helmet. The ginger-haired man stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice that had the smallest trace of shrillness, "The Resistance is among you. They have infiltrated Turshaval, and we have intelligence that they are among you in Hallaport. You will be interrogated. You will give us the Resistance. And if you do, you will go home. If you do not... we will burn the memory of this place from the surface of the planet-"

_Give yourself up and this will stop._

I froze.

_Do it. Turn yourself in to the nearest stormtrooper. Do it and the rest of these people will not be interrogated._

**_He_ _lies._ **

The whispers. I always trusted them. And they told me there was something more. I looked around, seeming to be just as confused and scared as the rest of the masses. I blended in. I was no one. And as I did that, I turned on the black robed man. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, confident that he was well too far to pick out the movement in the crowd. And I did to him what he'd done to me in my dreams. I delved.

_"General Hux, you have failed to find anything. You have been in Turshaval for over a month and you have **failed**  to find the Resistance insurgency on the planet."_

_It was a low voice, from a gigantic hologram that took up most of the room. The man - at least, I think it was a man - was menacing and covered in scarring. One side of his face looked permanently caved him at the jaw, and he had no hair and sallow skin. In a small outcropping jutting out from the exit of the expansive, dark chamber, stood the ginger-haired man and the black-robed man._

_"Supreme Leader, we are getting closer to the-"_

_"You lie," The ginger-haired man doubled over, clutching at his head. I felt a tightness, a darkness in my own chest, "This miniscule planet is one of the best jumping off points to attack the inner parts of the Republic. We will_ _**not** lost it to the Republic and the Resistance again."_

_The man gasped when whatever hold the hologrammed figure had on him lessened. As he was gasping, the 'Supreme Leader' said, "You will find them, General Hux. Snuff them out and destroy them. Interrogate the entire outpost and the capitol if you have to."_

_"Y-yes Supreme Leader."_

_"You are dismissed," The hologram said. The ginger-haired man, this General Hux, saluted and left. He was rubbing his neck and temple as he passed me._

_"Kylo Ren," The robbed man knelt down on one knee when his name was called. His name... so the robbed man was the Lord of the Sith I'd heard about, "Have you found the Force-sensitive yet?"_

_"... no, Master."_

_The room grew tense and cold as his Master answered, "You as well, have had over a month and you have yet to capture someone known to be in the port from the reports o obvious Force usage. Known to be in the very **outpost**  commanded by  **us**?!"_

_"Master, they are strong with the Force but untrained," Lord Ren stood. His gloves fingers were clenched, "I am getting close. I can feel her walls breaking. I will find her."_

_"You know it is a her," The room grew charged again, like when General Hux was in pain. But the black-robed man didn't so much as flinch, "Ahh, I see. You believe you know her. You have met her in your past. Yet you were **weak**  then. You could not see what she was. And now, so much older... you can't even remember her name."_

_"Master-"_

_"Find her. Find her and bring her to me. This talent of hers with the Force, to hide in plain sight and manipulate it. We could use that."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"Find her **before**  any attack the Resistance may be planning," The Supreme Leader said, "We cannot allow them to find her first."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"This is not a negotiation, my young apprentice. You **will**  find her, you  **will** bring her to me, and she  **will**  join us. Or you will kill her."_

_"...Yes, Master."_

I was thrown out of the vision with a jolt. There was anger in the room, confusion, and I snapped my gaze up to look at the black-robed man. He was half-stomping, half-flying from the balcony, the ginger-haired General Hux staring after him. Such anger, such reckless  _rage_ emanated from the man and colored the whole chamber until well after he was gone. But I had my information. They  _weren't_ here just for me. They were here for the Resistance. I was just an afterthought. They  _happened_  to be coming to the planet, so they were going to look into the 'ghost' of the cantina.

So I let myself fade back. I may be able to hide then. Because these interrogations were for the Resistance search, not for me.

I sat with Malia on the floor of the hall. The troopers had, under the General's orders, split us by gender and then by section within the base. That meant that Malia, Petra, and a couple other of the females in the cantina were together while Nunes and the rest were far away. Then they called the first group, who were half-dragged from the training room under the guard of an entire squad of stormtroopers.

"What's going to happen to us?" Malia muttered, eyes darting around. She couldn't stop staring at the troopers that lined the entire hall.

"Hey," I leaned forward and put a hand on her knee, smiling, "Everything's going to be fine. We don't know anything about the Resistance. They have no reason to hurt us." They may hurt me, if I wasn't careful.

"But... but what are they going to do? T-torture...?" She shivered and sobbed, once. I scooted so I was next to her and drew her in, one arm across her shoulders. I didn't have much I could say. I didn't exactly know what this interrogation would mean either, only that I knew now that it didn't matter if I turned myself in. They were going to come for everyone else regardless, all because of some tip and some point from some where that told them the Resistance was planning to retake the planet. This tiny, inconsequential planet that was only good for jumping off to other places.

Then, they came for us after nearly half a day of interrogations. Troopers surrounded us and we stood us. Our group was so small that we were brought out with another two. Out of the training room, down a hall, down a flight of stairs, an into a dark passage. The walls were less grey here and more black. The lights, white and red strips along the ceiling. Then we were instructed, under armed guard, to line up outside the doors lining the passage. I hesitated, arm still around Malia. A stormtrooper wrenched her away and shoved her inside the cell a few down from the one that a sharp hit to my lower back sent me tumbling into. Two stormtroopers came in with an emotionless looking man in a sharp white jacket.

"Stand on the platform."

The room had garish lights all over the ceiling, and some strips down the walls. All a blinding white. In the center of the oval cell was a platform, tilted up, places for my feet and arms and restraints all over. I balled my fist. I did  _not_  want to go in there.

"Stand on the platform  _now_."

A shove and I was thrown into the platform. I whipped around, only to have stormtroopers on either side of me, forcing my arms and legs into place so they could clamp in the electronic restraints. I didn't fight them, but they weren't gentle. I needed to stay calm. Feel the anxiety, feel the fear. Acknowledge it, use it, and let it pass. As long as I played along, pretended to feel pain to whatever they did to me, I would be fine. I genuinely know nothing about the Resistance, so there was nothing for me to give up.

The stormtroopers left, but as a sharply dressed officer entered and nodded to the obvious medical personnel, I could see their white armor on either side of the door. Guarding us, as if anyone here had the ability to get out of this. The doors slid closed as a droid floated in, covered in all sorts of nasty, sharp instruments and needles. Some were filled with fluid, others were not. I knew that none of them would really have an effect on me if they just caused pain. But I would have to act like they did.

Then the white-jacketed man began attached electrodes to my forehead and chest, unbuttoning the top parts of my uniform to do so. He acted clinically, as robotic as the droid next to him. I pretended to flinch when an IV needle was shoved in the crook of my elbow, breathed quicker than I really needed to in order to simulate panic. The presence of the electrodes did give me anxiety, though. I can fake a reaction to pain perfectly. I couldn't fake monitors detecting the chemical and electric signals given off by those in actual pain. At least most of the monitors were only for detecting falsehood, not that those weren't incredible easy to fool.

"Now you will tell us; what do you know of the Resistance activities in Hallaport?" Said the officer.

"Nothing," I said, taking deep breaths to keep myself calm and seem like I was holding back panic. In reality, I was pretty at ease.

"Let's see..." The officer turned to regard a readout in his hands, "Iliana Lanlake. Daughter of deceased Sergeant Bennlan Lanlake of the First Order and... ahh, Jaihana Lanlake. Resistance scum, who died when we retook the planet." He leaned close, setting aside the readout. His eyes narrowed, "Are you scum, like your mother? Taking a job in the cantina of the outpost so you could keep an eye out for the Resistance friends?"

I fought to not clench my fists or my teeth, "No, sir." These cells were not soundproof. I knew because, from the others, I began to hear the screaming.

"I may believe you," The officer stood straighter and nodded to the white-jacketed man. He motioned the droid closer, "But I don't. I maybe will, however, after you have had some... persuasion."

And here came my act. The medical-jacketed man injected something into my IV as the droid came closer, all gnashing metal and whirring blades. For literally anyone else, it would have hurt. So I began to scream. Scream as it burned me, scream as it sliced at me, screamed as the man took notes and eyed the readouts with a dead-eyed, impassive face.

He didn't care. None of them cared. Because in the First Order, personal feelings don't matter. Only order, only results.

And so I screamed on, and didn't feel a thing.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  Please review if you liked it! I had a lot of fun with this one :)


	4. Slipping Through His Fingers

**Disclaimer:**  I own nothing of Star Wars

* * *

Chapter Three

**Slipping Through His Fingers**

_"The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane."_

_\- Marcus Aurelius_

* * *

Slowly, one at a time, the screaming in the rooms around me ceased. As I screamed myself, not feeling any of the pain from the torture and being quite bored really, I concentrated on the sounds of the others. They couldn't be torturing everyone; the screams only came from a few distinct directions, rather than from all over like it would have if the First Order saw fit to torture everyone brought with me. So it was probably only the likely ones. Ones with verified ties to the Resistance, no matter how small. Not even the tie to the First Order I had through my father was enough to absolve me, and was trumped by that of my mother.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, The same officer from before came in and the droid backed off. He looked over my vital signs and the impressive marks the droid caused. They were superficial but all over; there was no point in seriously injuring me if I was to work in the morning after all. I wouldn't even scar, and most of the torture had been chemical and electric in nature. Not that I felt a thing. The electricity  _did_  make me jump, though. Merely muscle twitches, but it helped to at least make it  _look_  like I was in pain.

"Now that we've become such  _friends_ , Ms. Lanlake," The officer sneered, "Tell me everything you know about the Resistance attempts to retake Turshaval."

"Nothing!" I cried out, panting heavily, "I know nothing!"

This went back and forth for a good ten minutes. His questions, my same claims of knowing nothing over and over. A few more burns and pokes and prods from the droid and chemicals in the IV. Always the same answer, and I thought I played my part of actually feeling the pain well.

"You see, I believe you," The officer said, "We've already found the Resistance scum. Of course, the rest must be interrogated to make sure there's not more of them." He leaned down, eyes narrowing, "Now, citizen, why was this done to you?"

I didn't have to miss a beat; I wasn't "reconditioned" like the First Order military, but everyone was taught enough during occupation. I plucked the lines nearly verbatim from the constant propaganda newscasts, "Because order must be maintained. The Resistance is against order and discipline, and must be cleansed." By the Force, those words tasted metallic. Too dark, too false. But I said them anyway.

The officer leaned back, "Good."

He left, the droid and medical personnel following. Then two stormtroopers came in and my restraints were undone. I sighed and stood fluidly, rubbing my wrists. I would assume, if I could feel pain, they would be sore. Red was blossoming on them, and I knew they would bruise. When the stormtroopers led me out, it was only with a couple others. All the cells were open, so I just assumed that I was one of the last released from this particular round of interrogations.

Malia, Petra, and the rest of the female cantina staff were already gone. As the last of us were led to the main base entrance (since we came from multiple places, it would be 'inefficient' of the stormtroopers to lead us individually. It was so dark outside. The two tiny moons of the planet glowed with the stars; one white, one an off-blue. The stormtroopers unceremoniously dropped half of us at that entrance, and I didn't have to ask where the others were taken. They probably hadn't conformed as well, and would be taken for reeducation. It's best to just blend into the masses to avoid that particular fate, though it was used rarely on locals. The longer the First Order held the planet, however, the more reconditioning of locals became. Going on long enough, this would be a place of strict order. Boring.

When I reached my apartment building and climbed, I stopped on Malia's floor. On a whim, I turned and went down that hall. I had to know how bad it was for her, and if she needed help. With a lifetime of being unable to feel pain, I had to learn very well how to dress wounds quickly.

"Malia?" I knocked on her room, "Malia, you there?"

There was some rustling, and quickly the door opened. She was staring at the floor; purple and yellow blossomed on the right side of her face. She had a few cuts here and there, but not much. Her wrists were bruised too, like mine, but hers had added cuts and bloody marks. Shit; had I not struggled enough to emulate someone who felt pain?

She didn't say anything, so I said, "Hey, can I come in?"

Malia nodded and moved out of the way. Her apartment was identical to mine, save for some different pictures and drawings on the wall. She even had a potted plant under a small lamp with a bendable neck. That was a good idea; I would have to remember it.

And then, the waterworks started.

Malia collapsed in my arms and I guided her to the bed, wrapping my arms around her and just holding the girl. There was a tightness in my chest, an odd sort of agony coupled with a sudden rush of anger. This was the closest to pain I ever got; from a mix of anger, empathy, and the tightness in my chest whenever someone I knew was hurt.

She recounted what they'd done to her. Technically, she'd had it easier than me. No droids came into her torture session, nor chemical-filled IV bags. She was just questioned and batted around a bit by an officer. Malia's parents were both First Order, and her younger brother was taken as an infant to serve as a stormtrooper, a fact they were proud of. So she  _couldn't_  be a Resistance spy. But of course, they had to make sure. So she was beaten around anyway.

"Why would they  _do_  that?" She sniffled, "My family is  _loyal_. My-my mom and dad believe in the First Order ideals. My uncle serves on the Finalizer."

"It sucks. I know, I know it does," I held her tighter.

She sniffed and looked up at me through watery lashes, "How? How are you always so calm? Didn't they hurt you too?"

I showed her the few marks I had, and the cut from the IV. While she was more bruised, I had more red from slices and chemicals, "They brought in a droid that tortured me. Chemicals, and IV, all kinds of things. I was one of the last ones released during our round of interrogations."

"But-but  _why_?" Malia grabbed my elbow and touched the IV mark, "Iliana, you... you never seem to care about either side. Your dad was in the First Order, right?"

"And my mom was in the Resistance," I said with a small, sad smile, "So, really, I guess that's why."

"But you got out okay? How... how did you stand it?"

I leaned forward so our foreheads touched, and wiped away some of my friend's tears, "Well, it's a secret."

Her face fell, "You can't tell me?"

"Oh I will, but you have to  _promise_  never to tell a soul," I winked. Sure, mom didn't like me telling people, but it was hardly a secret next to the one I carried about the whispers and the Force. She nodded vigorously, almost smiling. Good; maybe this would get her mind off it all, "I can't feel pain."

Her eyes bugged out, "Wait... what? You're joking!"

I shook my head and leaned back a bit, but kept the girl in a hug. She'd stopped trembling now, "Nope. Remember when I burned my stomach in the kitchen? And all the times I've burned or cut myself there, but didn't seem to mind?" Malia nodded, "Well, it's because I was born with it. Called congenital analgesia or congential insensitivity to pain."

"Wow..." She blinked, "So like, when you cut the crap out of your fingers two months ago cutting veggies...?"

"I felt the sharpness, but not the pain. Not a bit," I stuck out my tongue and pointed for a second at the scarring there, "And before you say that sounds awesome, I've nearly accidentally bitten my tongue off more times that I can count. And I have to be  _very_  careful not to chew my nails or lip when I'm nervous."

"Whoa..."

"You're the only one who knows, except maybe the doctor I saw when I was a baby and a couple other people from back in the capitol," I put a finger up to my mouth, "So no telling, okay?"

She nodded vigorously. And just like any other time a non-medical professional learned about my condition, she launched into a barrage of questions and I didn't get out of the apartment for another hour. Finally, I was walking up the steps to the fifth floor. Then, with a strange tug in the Force and the whispers, it happened again.

"Turn around."

There was no echo to the voice, like there was when he spoke in my head. Strangely, there wasn't even the metallic alterations of the helmet. Meaning that, wherever he was, he wasn't wearing it. He was standing, right behind me, but I also knew he wasn't there. I knew if I turned to look at him, he would get a good look at my face. This was just like in the hallway after I repaired the panel. If I spoke, he could easily pull everyone out again for another interrogation and come through the rooms himself, looking for who matched the voice.

"You will turn around and give me your name.  _Now_."

I walked into my apartment and slammed the door behind me. He didn't follow.

* * *

**_CAUTION. CAUTION._ **

_He was standing in a room, dark like the interrogation wards but with less lighting and a plush, black-sheeted bed. He wasn't wearing the helmet - it sat on the table his hands were thrust upon - and his back was to me. I could see that his hair was unruly, slightly curled. A part of me wanted to see his face, but largely I didn't care. If he kept it hidden, it was for a reason._

_But I drew back and blended in, dispersing myself in the wall. I didn't want him seeing me again._

_A hologram turned on next to him. It was General Hux, "Ren, I have some information that might be of use to you."_

_"What?" Lord Ren's voice was short, snippy. He wasn't in a mood to talk._

_"But first, remind me-" There was a teasing, almost snarl to the General's voice. It was obvious neither liked each other in the least, "-what is it you remember about the girl? Who apparently was so unimportant that you couldn't even remember her name? No matter how much you do your little meditations and ask your precious Force?"_

_"Do you remember every single damn acquaintance you ever knew for barely a handful of days?!" Lord Ren scoffed. His knuckles began to curl, the leather of his gloves cracking, "Stop playing these games, Hux, and tell me what you found you sniveling weasel."_

_"That's hardly a way to talk to someone doing you a favor, Ren."_

_He slammed a fist into the wall, and I felt the Force in the metal sheeting bend to his will. So he was like me, too. Only steeped in darkness, given in to emotions and unable to control them, "Tell me now before I come down to the control room and strangle them out of you."_

_"Very well," Hux drawled, "We found three insurgents from the Resistance. There's likely more among the locals and in the capitol, but they are preforming interrogations there as well. The only reason we're in this god-forsaken spit of a port is because of **your**  errand anyway."_

_Oh no._

_"Hux."_

_"Calm yourself down for once in your life, Ren, I'm telling you what we found," I couldn't see it, but I was ready to bet the ginger-haired General was rolling his eyes, "There was an anomaly among the people we used more... **forceful**  methods of interrogation on."_

_"The IT-000 interrogator droids?"_

_"The very ones," Hux said, seeming bored with the whole affair, "Well, there was... one interrogation. A girl too, just like you said.-"_

_Oh hell._

_"From what I heard from the medical officer overseeing usage of the IT-000 unit and the officer overseeing the interrogations, she was flawlessly in pain the entire time, however..."_

_"Get on with it, Hux."  
_

_"Her stress response never really changed much the whole time," Hux said, "Didn't you say you remembered her not reacting to pain?"_

_A flash. Another time, another place. I was short to the ground, a child running through the halls of the governmental buildings. My mother was calling my name from below, so I was running around trying to find the stairs again. But this place was a maze, and I was lost, and there was no one around to ask-_

_I turned a corner and slammed into someone a lot bigger than me with such a force that I fell backwards, arms and legs all akimbo. My arm slammed into something that shattered - a vase of some sort if I remember - and suddenly red exploded from it._

_Ben knelt in front of me, panicking as blood poured from my arm, "Oh Force, oh **Force**  are you okay? Mom's going to be so mad at me-"_

_"It's okay," I shot him a toothy grin. I took off my jacket and wrapped the arm up, all smiles and giggling, "It doesn't hurt, silly."_

_"What are you talking about?! You're bleeding everywhere!"_

_"I get hurt all the time, it's fine," My little self giggled again. Then I dropped the bomb on him, "I'm a pretty little mutant. I can't feel pain, Mr. Ben!"_

I gasped and shot up, sweat beading down my forehead. I gasped for breath, feeling a bit irritated at the lack of air in my lungs. That dream - that vision - ... Lord Ren  _knew_  me? He was that... Ben guy I saw a handful of times when General Leia visited Turshaval when it was in Resistance hands? And now he was here with the First Order. Against the Resistance. Snuffing it out of the planet again. I'd told him I can't feel pain as a child. He'd seen me use the Force once, told me the word for it. I saw him maybe six times in my whole life over the span of months, but he knew enough.

The presence came so thick I choked on it. It tried to assault my mind, but I threw up my walls and shut it out. The presence was Kylo Ren. He knew who I was. He knew my name.

And he was coming here.

I took one deep breath. Then two. Then three. And then, I acted. I bolted out of bed like a bat out of hell and threw open my closet. I had three sets of clothes that weren't uniforms; those went into my only backpack - a threadbare thing I'd had since primary school - along with a couple bars of food from the cabinet above the microwave. I was still in night clothes, but didn't have time to change so I just threw on my one thick jacket and warmest shoes. It was fall on Turshaval, not too cold yet but I wasn't sure where I was going or how I was getting there just that I needed to get  _away_.

The whispers warned me of them. They'd entered the building. At least... at least a dozen stormtroopers. Maybe more, it was hard to tell because the dark seeping presence of Kylo Ren overtook them all.

So I hoisted up the tiny apartment window, situated about halfway up the wall by my bed, and closed it behind me. There was grating, emergency ladders for getting to ground level in case of a fire. I pushed myself out and onto them, backpack slung over my shoulders and heart beating a strong, irratic rhythm in my chest. I felt the presence closer now. Too close. Closer than he'd ever been.

I raced down the steel gratings and stairs; just as I hit the bottom where I needed to release a latch to drop the bottom ladder to ground level, I heard the sound of splintering wood and cracking walls above me. I'd locked the apartment door, you see, but that was nothing to the power of a platoon of soldiers and a Knight of Ren.

So instead of dropping the ladder, I judged the distance. At least ten feet. Even if I sprained an ankle, I could still run on it. As dangerous as not being able to feel pain was, it was useful. But I couldn't get far if they realized which direction I was going. So I reached for the whispers, for the Force, and jumped.

It slowed my descent, enough so I wasn't injured but not enough that I didn't hit the ground with a resounding  _oomph_. But I didn't stay around to see if anyone heard it or was coming; I took off running down the streets, as far away from the outpost and any reinforcements that could be called in.

I felt uncontrollable rage, white hot like that flames that never pained me, exploding behind me.

I kept running, willing my legs to go faster and faster. There was a transport to the capitol at the end of town. If I could reach it, if Lord Ren hadn't thought to shut down transit out of the city before leaving the base, if the cameras in the interrogation rooms were grainy enough, if I changed my hair color and blended in more, if if if-

So many things could go wrong. And though my lungs screamed for more air - it was a strange thing, to feel the prickly need to breathe without the burning pain everyone told me should happen when you run when out of shape - I tried to take deep, calming breaths. Pull myself inwards. Pull inwards and dissipate into the surroundings. There's no Force-sensitive people in the outpost save the Knight of Ren. No one at all. Just the background power of the world and life itself.

I turned left, then right, then forward. I could feel the presence still, dark and wrathful behind me. There was more distance between us now, but he was gaining. Like a dark storm cloud only I could see, the power of him was closing in on me. I felt his fingers, trying to prod into my mind. Trying to cripple me with pain from a distance, trying to urge me to lash out and give myself away with the screaming.

I almost smiled as I reached the transport. That was probably Lord Kylo Ren's first plan in a normal situation; cause pain and simply rip out the information needed, like a bull in a china shop. But it doesn't work when the prey can't feel the pain offered.

"Imperial Credit chip, please," The bored officer manning the ticket booth said. I flashed him mine, and thank the stars it was taken without a problem. They hadn't frozen my accounts first either, or stopped the transport. Lord Kylo Ren must have gone straight to the apartment, without forethought to shut down any escape beforehand. Maybe he'd felt my presence in the dream anyway, and panicked. Do Sith Lords ever panic?

The officer handed me a plastic ticket and I went to the transport. My luck held, because it was due to depart in five minutes. The presence drew closer, but slightly less focused. My Force was scattered, blended in. He could feel it everywhere, and he couldn't track it.

I stopped at the closest teller machine to the transport terminal. I didn't have much money saved up, but I didn't waste money either. I had enough to use in the capitol. Set myself up for a few more days at least while I tried to figure out what to do. But that wouldn't be the case if the First Order froze my accounts. So I withdrew everything, all at once, into multiple smaller credit chips. They didn't bear my account name now, and were as if plain currency of any other system.

"Last call for transport to Vrunsa."

That was my transport. The presence was even closer now. It clawed at my throat, fingers on either side squeezing in a promise of what would happen if I got caught. But I wasn't afraid. It's not like the First Order could torture me.

I stepped on the transport just before it's doors closed. Found a seat just as my body jolted from the vertical take-off. I was in the air, leaving Hallaport behind with nothing but a backpack of supplies and in my pajamas. I probably wouldn't be able to go back, either. So I slumped down in my seat as the presence grew to a crescendo. All a twisted tangle of rage, powerful and uncontrolled. So high a fever pitch it reached, that I leaned forward slightly and clutched at my chest. It didn't hurt, no no that wasn't it. I felt... empathy. Sadness for the the Lord of the Sith. Because, hidden deep in the rage of the presence I flew away from, was a mix of sadness and fear. Regret. Small, almost infinitesimal, but it was there.

If this was how strong and dark and angry his presence was from this far away, I never wanted find out how Kylo Ren was in person.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  Writing all these cat-and-mouse scenes is so much freakin' fun, y'all xD

**Comment Replies:**

Artemiselle: I've been low-key bingeing on Kylo Ren fics since I watched The Last Jedi too :P


	5. Meeting the Resistance

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Star Wars

* * *

Chapter Four

**Meeting the Resistance**

_"We don't meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason."_

_\- Unknown_

* * *

I wasn't out of the woods yet. The transport to the capitol, Vrunsa, wasn't the only one to depart at the same time, but it took about an hour's flight to get there. Well enough time for the outpost in Hallaport to call ahead to the main base garrison. So when the transport lurched and lowered, I wasn't surprised when stormtroopers flooded the cabin, ordering everyone off at blaster point. I stayed calm and kept my head down, letting my anxiety wash over me and letting it go as a the butt of a stormtroopers rifle came down on my back. There was already a bruise there from the day of the interrogation; now there would be a worse one.

The capitol was many orders of magnitude larger than Hallaport. Tall governmental buildings clashing with the grey and metallic installations and additions from the First Order. The planet's one spaceport took up a large swath of the sky, the thick tower of it rising much higher than any other building. Another blaster hit sent me stumbling down the steps from the transport. I was forced to the ground with everyone else and shouted at to keep my head down. But unlike anyone else here, I didn't need to look up to see everything.

I was in the port. Curious eyes watched from the nearby street, passed the terminal exit. Stormtroopers were everywhere. At least two dozen of them, with a handful of officers and at least one higher-ranked stormtrooper, judging from the slightly different armor they had. There was no way I could ever run away without getting caught immediately. As I let my spirit wander, searching for any way out of this situation, I felt the thoughts of those around me. Just pin-pricks, more feelings than words, but it was enough.

They didn't know if this was the right transport. I'd bought a general one-use ticket, so I could have taken any of the four transports. And they were scrambling, panicked; trying to find me without having analyzed all the information because if they had, I would have more and enough time to slip through the cracks.

But they did know my name, and an officer flanked by two stormtroopers was going up the line of people asking for their identification. Once they got to me, and asked for mine, I would be found out.

"Identification card now, citizen."

They were getting closer. A bead of panic burst in my stomach, but I swallowed it. I swallowed it, and I took a deep breath to stay as calm as possible. There was something I could do. There  _had_  to be. There was  _always_  a choice.

A shadow passed over me, "Identification card now, citizen."

I looked up at the officer and said the first thing that came to mind, what the whispers in the back of my head were telling me may work. I focused, calling on the Force around me and within me, "My identification card has already been checked, sir. You do not need to see it again."

For a moment, nothing happened, and a sheen of cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. A couple people around me turned a bit to stare. Thankfully, no fuss was made because there were multiple officers checking IDs.

The officer's eyes went a bit glassy and he said in an even monotone, "Your identification card has already been checked. I do not need to see it again."

The two storm troopers turned their heads to look at their superior officer, but he was already moving on to the next person, "Identification card now, citizen."

I didn't breathe a sigh of relief. I didn't do anything really, merely trying to emulate the fear of those around me. But I  _was_  relieved. I was going to get out of here. The ID checks stopped and the First Order personnel withdrew. We were all ushered out of the terminal as normalcy reestablished. As I hurried out, I overheard an officer say, "Send word to General Hux; the girl isn't on this transport."

That was when I smiled. It would buy me time. Not much, but it would be enough.

A hand covered my mouth and yanked me into the nearest alley. I tried to scream but the hand was firm and pulled me in tight. I struggled, but whoever pulled me was much larger and much stronger.

"Stop, stop, I ain't gonna hurt you."

Yeah, because  _that_  was reassuring from someone who was probably going to mug me of the little credit chips I had-

"I saw what you did back there."

Wrong move. I struggled harder. But he didn't give up and pulled me further down the alley. People kept walking by the street, heads down, not even looking up to see my plight.

"Hey, hey! Stop that! I said I ain't gonna hurt you!"

Eventually I calmed. He hadn't thrown me down, or tried to tear off my backpack. If I cooperated, maybe I could find an opening and make a break for it. The person mostly let me go, but kept an arm on my shoulder as I turned around to face them. It was a man, conventionally handsome with short brown hair and a hint of stubble around his chin. He wore dark pants, a leather jacket that was open to a cream colored shirt. He has a blaster strapped to his belt. In short, he looked every part a rogue.

"Poe Dameron," His hand fell from my shoulder and he held out a hand, "You look like you could use a place to lay low."

I eyed his hand with suspicion until he dropped it with a sigh. When he tried to speak again, I cut him off, "What do you want?"

"It's not what I want, doll," He leaned on an arm, pressed against the brick wall nearest to us, "Near as I see it, those 'troopers were looking for someone. Someone who doesn't wanna get found. And I see in front of me a girl who don't wanna get caught and just used the Force to get them off her back."

Oh hell.

"Now I ain't offering anything weird, before you get any ideas," Poe leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I'm with the Resistance. Pretty sure you need a place to lay low, and we can give you one."

Everyone wants something.

I leaned in too, mere inches separating our faces as my eyes narrowed, "Why should I believe you?" The whispers told me he told the truth, but I wanted him to prove it himself anyway.

Poe showed me a ring on his hand; it was small and nondescript. He pushed a small button and the Resistance logo was shown.

"That doesn't really mean much; could've stolen that when the First Order took the planet."

He had the good grace to look offended, "What, seven years ago? This things way too cheap looking to keep and risk getting found with if I  _wasn't_  who I said I was."

"True," I bit my lip and looked away. Soon, I tasted copper and remembered I wasn't supposed to do that. I sucked on the cut for a moment as I leaned back and put my hands on my hips, "I'm not working for you."

"I'm not asking you to; come on."

Poe turned and I followed with a sigh. I wondered if Malia was going to be okay.

* * *

The place Poe brought me to was some small, dirty place underneath a slum apartment complex. It wasn't that it was... disgusting, really; just that the place didn't look like it was used much so dust and cobwebs covered every inch of everything. Also, the wallpaper was torn to shreds. Three other people were in the room, and Poe greeted them as friends. He told them how he found me outside the terminal and what happened.

"So this's the girl?" One of them asked.

"Yeah, this is... uh..." Poe leaned back a bit to half whisper in my ear, "What's your name?"

"Iliana. Iliana Lanlake," One of them held out their hand for me to shake. I didn't take it, "I just need somewhere to lay low for a while."

One of the others, a girl, gestured around, "Can't get much better than here. Not much, but we won't be here long anyway. Anyone running from the First Order is welcome here."

I whipped my head from side to side. Weren't they worried about surveillance or anything? There were cameras all over the streets, though Poe had taken me through the backroads and alleys to keep out of sight of most of them.

"Don't look so spooked," Poe said with an eye-roll, "We're good here. Just stay a couple days, and you won't have a thing to worry about."

Now  _that_  had me suspicious, "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing much," Poe winked.

Nothing mu-?! Then it dawned on me. The Resistance members caught in Hallaport. They  _were_  planning something. And whatever it was, capture of their allies would force their timetable up. Whatever the Resistance was planning, was happening soon.

I groaned and slid down a nearby wall to sit on a dusty crate. What had I gotten myself into? Poe assured me I had nothing to worry about and told one of the others, a girl with dark skin and frazzled hair he called Yasmyn, to show me to a spare room. She gestured me out the only door into a short hall with four doors. Everything was just as dusty; they probably just got to this hideout themselves. She led me to one room with two small mattresses and gestured to one further from the tiny window by the ceiling.

"Other one's mine," Yasmyn gestured to the other mattress; there was a large dufflebag on it. I nodded and she moved to leave, only to stop in the doorway, "You need something for that lip?"

I blinked. Lip? Oh. Right, when I'd bit it earlier. At least I hadn't bit off a chunk like I used to as a kid, "No, no thank you. Um... maybe later."

"M'kay little one; I'm gonna go talk to Poe for a bit," She said, "You settle in some, and come join us when you're ready, okay?"

I nodded numbly and then I was alone. I fell to my mattress and finally shrugged off my backpack. Three changes of clothes, a pile of odd nutrient bars and snacks. Some credit chips. My only knife, a small all-purpose kitchen one. I sighed and leaned back, stretching out along the length of the mattress. It was less comfortable than the requisitioned one I had back in Hallaport.

I let my mind wander. Here, there was less nature to feel. Less waves to crash chaotically against the piers. Less birds, more squawks of sky cars. This was a city, maybe the only city of any real size on this tiny planet. But even here, I felt the pull just as strongly. The Force that flowed through it all. It ebbed and flowed, was neither light nor dark because life itself is not entirely one or the other. It was both. It was always both. Because one side cannot survive without the other to feed on.

"You look like you're having a good time."

My eyes snapped open and, sure enough, there he was. As real as Yasmyn looked before she left me. The black robes, the metallic helmet that distorted his voice, his silhouette illuminated like a dark phantom by sparse moonlight through the tiny window. But he wasn't actually there.

I pushed up, first on my elbows and then slowly on my feet, "That's not exactly what I would call being chased from my home for no reason."

"You think I was sent to find you for no reason?" Lord Ren took step towards me. He towered over me; my head would just brush his collarbone if he took a few more steps.

I sighed, "Well, yeah, you have a reason but it's a terrible one."

"Tell me where you are, Iliana."

Ahh, there it was. Funny that it took personnel files at the outpost to tell him and not his own memories, "Why? So you can come find me?"

"I can sense much power within you," Lord Ren took another step. His helmet covered the window now, the only light in the room being that which silhouetted him and glinted off the corners of his helmet. Funny that the light seemed to react to his presence, even though he wasn't here, "Well controlled anger, empathy, so many emotions. And I sense your darkness, and your light. You could be so  _powerful_ , Iliana. If you would only let me teach you."

"And if I don't need a teacher?" Now it was me who took a step towards him, looking up at the Sith with defiant eyes, "If I don't want one?"

He answered with a question of his own, "I can only see you, not where you are. Where are you, Iliana?"

Fingers at the back of my skull, slowly moving. Poking, prodding, testing for weakness. The whispers screamed for caution, so I shrugged off his searching mind and glowered, "That won't work on me."

"Not over this... whatever it is," Lord Ren waved a hand between us. Ah, so he didn't know why this kept happening either. Interesting, "But I would think in person would be different."

"Maybe," I smiled. It was easy to be calm, knowing he couldn't see where I am and couldn't reach into my mind effectively from this distance, "I'd rather not find out, my Lord."

"Tell me where you  _are_ , Iliana," His fists clenched, "Do not make me angry. Or when I find you, I will not be kind."

"Or you could just, you know, leave me alone," I threw up my hands, exasperated, "I don't  _want_ to be taught. The whispers of what you told me was the Force guide me well enough, obviously, since I've escaped you once already. Just let me go back to my job at the cantina, Lord Ren. I've not caused anyone trouble. I've not helped either side. The only reason you know about me in the first place is because I helped out clumsy First Order employees one time too many."

"You do not order me around," Lord Ren snarled, "And you wouldn't be half as forward if we were in person."

"Probably not," My smiled widened, "But even if we were in person, it's not like you could torture me into submission either."

He was silent at that. I heard something shuffling outside the door. Just as Lord Ren tried to say something else, I reached up and poked him right on the forehead of his helmet, "Sorry, but I have to go, Ben."

As the door opened, Kylo Ren vanished from the room. I stared at Poe with wide eyes, then looked back at my still outstretched hand. I hadn't expected it. I thought my hand would phase right through him. But it hadn't I had touched the helmet, as clear as my feet touched the solid concrete of the room's floor. What in the world...?

"Who were you talking to?" Poe crossed his arms, eyes narrowed just enough to tell me he was suspicious.

My arm dropped back to my side, "No one. No one at all.

* * *

When Poe asked - demanded actually, but at least he was nice about it - to look through my things, I didn't argue. I knew, since he'd obviously at least heard my side of the end of my conversation with Lord Ren that he probably thought I had a hidden communication device and was contacting someone. Sure, it was annoying, but I didn't really have anything suspicious on me and he  _was_  with the Resistance so it was understandable. He, of course, found nothing and apologized.

"It's fine; you're right to be suspicious," I shrugged, "I would be too."

His eyebrows shot up, "You're very blase about this. Weren't you running away from the First Order when we met?"

"Yup."

"And didn't I see you use the Force on that officer at the transport terminal?"

Oh hell, "I could just be really persuasive, you know." Poe stared at me for a long minute with such a pointed look that I added, "Okay fine, yes."

Poe finished putting all my things back in the backpack and led me back to the main room, "We really could use your help in the Resistance, then. Our General, Leia, is Force-sensitive too you know. Sister of Luke Skywalker. She could teach yo-"

"I've already told Lord Ren that I don't need a teacher," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I'd rather just be left alone, really."

Poe froze, along with everyone else in the room, "You've  _met_  Kylo Ren?"

I blinked, "Well, um... not in person technically..."

"What do you mean, not  _technically_?" Yasmyn gawked at me.

I sighed, "It's um... hard to explain? Like... Force visions and... stuff?"

"But you- you've  _talked_  to him," Poe crossed his arms again. I got the feeling that meant he was either suspicious, or thinking, " _Recently_."

"Yeah, um," Oh screw it; what harm could it bring? Poe offered me a few days at least of reprieve and hiding, so I might as well tell them, "Before the Resistance was really the, well, Resistance, General Organa visited Turshaval a handful of times with her husband and son over a couple months when I was eleven. I think she was helping reestablish the government, and my mom was a low level official in the capitol who was planning on joining the Resistance. Well, I just met him a handful of times, and I guess he remembered a thing or two because when I um...  _helped_  a couple people in Hallaport with the Force, it was reported enough times that I guess he got sent to find me."

"Well now I'm  _really_  glad I ran into you," Poe's arms dropped and he sauntered over to a small radio on the table in the center of the dusty room. He fiddled around with it for a minute and just before finishing, turned back to me, "In a couple days, this place'll be under attack by our forces. When we take it, I know General Leia is going to want to speak to you personally."

My hackles rose, "I just want to be left alone."

"Hey, hey!" Poe held up a hand in defense, "I'm not asking you to join us. We're not the First Order; we don't  _force_  people to fight. Just, when we take the planet, I'm askin' that you talk to her. She hasn't seen her own son in six years. Then, you can go back to whatever you were doing in Hallaport."

I thought it over. There was truth in his words. General Leia was always kind to me, in the few short interactions we had. And if Poe was offering to just... let me go afterward... I nodded, adding, " _If_  you take the planet."

He smirked, " _When_  we take it." Poe finished punching buttons on the radio and spoke starting speaking to the voice on the other side. It was full of static, but he was getting through; I assumed it was to a larger base somewhere, where this attack was being coordinated. I excused myself back to the room I was sharing with Yasmyn and sat cross-legged on the mattress. If it was supposed to happen in a few days, then I would be fine. If the Resistance took the planet, I could just go back to Hallaport and probably back to the cantina. If not, well...

I would just have to cross that bridge when I came to it.

* * *

"So, no luck finding me?"

A growl, "I would rather not do this right now."

I would have laughed, if it wasn't the middle of the night and I wasn't exhausted, "Yeah, me too."

"I know you're in the capitol. I can feel your presence but it's... it's everywhere! How?! How do you-!" A whirring sound. Crackling. As crash. I hadn't turned to look at him yet, but I knew something had just fallen prey to the classic Sith and Jedi weapon, the lightsaber.

I sighed, still on my tip-toes to watch the moon outside. I'd been in the dusty apartment for a day and a half. Yasmyn had gone with one of the others, probably preparing for this attack. Poe was asleep somewhere, while the other kept watch in the main room.

"Lord Ren, can I ask you something?" He didn't say anything. I took that as a yes, "Did you feel my finger, the last time this happened?"

"Did I feel your-" He sounded confused, hesitant, "... No."

"You're lying."

"It was through my helmet."

"Then you did feel it."

"... I felt the push."

That's when I turned to him. His back was to me, no cloak for once. His helmet was on, but the button on the back had been pressed. I must have caught him in the middle of removing it. There was a patch of skin, where his collar met the black metal, revealed when the helmet had shifted forward.

I stepped towards him. He didn't turn, fingers gripping with white knuckled hands - no gloves. His fingers were long and slender, gripping something I couldn't see. A table, most likely.

"What are you doing?"

"All my life the whispers have guided me," I said, taking another step, "How to keep myself safe, free, and hidden. How to explore the universe and the Force. But this... This is new."

I reached a hand up, towards the skin of his neck. My hand was shaking. He was trembling, "Stop."

And I did, the pad of my finger hovering just over his skin. So close that I could feel his warmth. Feel the dampness from sweat, the slightest feel of the few small ebony curls that had freed themselves from the helmet.

"What is this?" His voice was strained, almost... keening. With one hand, he removed his helmet, but with his shoulders hunched and back to me I couldn't see his face.

Tears prickled at my eyes. Emotion welled in my chest; something about this was somehow... intimate. Maybe it was because all of it was in our minds. I had, technically, never seen him in person after all.

I touched the back of his neck. I could feel his skin there. Actual human skin, underneath my fingers even when he was who knows how far away.

Kylo Ren gave a shuttering gasp. His hands gripped whatever was in his room tighter. In a flash, he whipped around.

And in the same flash, he was gone. Connection broken so jarringly that I stumbled backwards into Yasmyn's matress. My heart was beating so quickly, thrumming like a hummingbird in my chest. I stared at my finger for an age, then rubbed the pad of it with another. It was wet from his sweat.

For the first time in my life, I was afraid of the power of the Force.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  So how are y'all? I no longer have a proper sleep schedule so... let's write more! :D

** Comment Replies: **

ProcrastinatorandLazyBoy: Thank you; using fanfic as a writing exercise for original work helps!

Emmsy: That's exactly why I gave Iliana that disability; it both takes away Kylo's main method of force, AND well... if she can't really tell if she's deathly injured, then things could easily go too far by accident and that makes me grin evilly :D And I fully intend to take my sweet time before they actually meet in person, because I'm a sadist like that and those scenes are way too much fun to write. Blame The Last Jedi, because that's where I got the idea xD

shieldmyheart: Characters with intimate, uncontrollable connections are my favorite to write :D


	6. The General and Her Son

**Disclaimer:**  I own nothing SW related. Except some pins.

* * *

Chapter 5

**The General and Her Son**

_-There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late.'_

_\- Og Mandino_

* * *

On the fourth day on the dusty basement, Poe left. Evidently was a pilot, and would be needed for the Resistance attack. Why he was in the capitol helping from the ground in the first place, I never asked. It wasn't like I planned to help out at all; just wait and see if the Resistance took the planet so I could go home.

Lord Ren didn't appear again until just after he left. I was sitting in the main room with Yasmyn and the rest. She was talking to someone on the radio; there were striking within the hour.

He didn't speak, and neither did I. It wasn't like it would look good anyway; me talking to a man who wasn't actually there in front of a room of people. He merely stared at me from the opposite end of the room, a dark specter stalking his prey.

"Iliana?"

I jumped, and Lord Ren vanished. Yasmyn was looking at me; I felt my cheeks grow hot, "Y-yeah?"

"Your gonna want to stay in your room until we come back for you."

"When's it starting?"

Yasmyn stood straight and checked her blaster before sheathing it on her belt, "We're heading out now. I'm serious, though. If you don't want to wander into the fighting and get yourself shot,  _stay here_."

I wasn't a fan of being ordered around, but she made sense. Besides, I could feel very well what was happening outside through the Force. I didn't  _need_  to be out there.

Still, "Stay safe."

She smirked, hand in her hip, "No promises there."

They left me, for the first time, alone in the basement. Yasmyn and Poe were good people. I had a feeling they would be just fine. But even still; I went back to my room and sat down on the mattress. I meditated, letting my mind wander just as the sirens and emergency broadcasts began outside. And then, the screaming began. Not actual screaming - there way no one around - but the kind I just... felt. Deep in my mind, the screams of people on both sides as fighting began, first in the atmosphere as TIE fighters clashed against X-wings and further down as, hours later, the land assault began.

How large was the assault? Who was winning? Where was the colossal Finalizer? Did the Resistance even have a ship of it's size it could use to take down the gigantic Star Destroyer?

Yasmyn told me to stay in the basement, but I wasn't one to necessarily listen when I was curious.

I didn't go far. The moment I opened the front door, smoke and lights and the sounds and smells of blaster fire assaulted my senses. All I did was step five feet in front of the door, hold my thumb up to the sky, and look. The Finalizer was nowhere to be seen. That meant that Lord Ren and General Hux were gone. I yelped and dropped to the ground, arms over my head as a fighter whizzed by overhead. I didn't see which side it belonged to, because I dashed back into the basement and slammed the door. Breathing heavily, I raced back to my room and back to the mattress and just... sat there. Sat there and wandered through the Force. The Resistance was winning; they'd likely struck knowing that the Finalizer was gone.

"Why didn't you just give yourself up at the terminal?"

I opened my eyes, dimly aware of all the rumblings of battle going on outside, "I told you; I don't want a teacher. I'm perfectly fine just going back to working in the cantina."

"You could be so  _great_ ," I wondered how far from Turshaval he was now. Over just how long of a distance was this... whatever it was... going to last?

I sighed and stood, patting dust off my trousers, "I would rather just be myself than be propped up as something I'm not."

"You're irritated with me."

"I don't  _want_  to be taught by a Sith. I don't  _want_  to be taught by a Jedi!" I gripped the side of my head. Didn't he get it? Didn't he  _understand_? I threw an arm to the side and snapped my eyes right to where his would be. He was always wearing that helmet, "I just... I just want to explore these feelings, Ben! I want to explore the Force, the-the feelings it stirs in me, the things I see and the powers I've discovered." I remembered how the waves around Hallaport crashed against the sharp rocks. The birds failing to protect their offspring. The wild, untamed nature of the universe that was somehow chaotic and ordered at the same time.

My eyes were wild, misty when I stepped right up to one of the most feared men in the galaxy, "I don't want to be influenced by anyone! I want to learn - by the  _Force_  I want to learn - but not from you or anyone else. I don't need it." I thrusted my arms out as if for a hug, "The  _universe_ teaches me."

Lord Ren was silent for a long time. I couldn't see his face, so I couldn't make out his emotions, and he wasn't even here in the first place so I was at a lost to feeling his presence. But I did notice his fists clench, "Don't  _ever_  call me that name again."

My arms fell. What was he talking about? "... what?"

He was the one to close the gap now, standing so close there was but a finger's width between us. That was when I could see it. Not in the Force, not in his eyes, but in his posture and the way he held himself, "I am  _Kylo Ren_. Master of the Knights of Ren. Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke. And you  _will_  address me as such."

So that's what it was. In my own frustration, I'd called him by his birth name. I... I hadn't  _meant_  to. It just slipped out. With a sigh and a downcast look, I said, "I'm sorry. You changed your name for a reason. I will respect that."

For a moment, I thought he was going to strike me. His shoulders were hunched, his knuckles cracking the leather of his gloves. But Lord Ren calmed himself, shoulders falling. He looked less frightening now, and took a step back from me. I hadn't realized it until then, but I was shaking like a leaf.

"Show me your face."

He was silent.

My head snapped up, the feeling of fingers clenching around my heart for some reason that I refused to examine, "Show me your face, Kylo Ren. Please."

And he did.

My breath stuck in my throat when his black covered arms rose. One went to the back of his helmet. There was a slight clicking sound, and then both hands were on the sides of the helmet, lifting it up and away from his face. He set it down somewhere, but as soon as it was out of his hands, it vanished to my sight.

His skin was pale, but not  _too_  pale. High brow ridge, prominent nose, full lips and a strong jaw. His skin was not smoothed, but slightly freckled here and there. He looked... young for his age, which I knew to be twenty-nine because he was four years older than me. And his hair was just as unruly as my fading memories said; deep black, slightly wavy and maybe even a bit curled at the ends. It stopped just at the nap of his neck, and shown when something exploded outside and illuminated the basement with a flash.

His eyes were brown. Dark in the terrible basement lighting, but piercing and hold my gaze like a vice. There was darkness in those eyes, unending and unyielding. I felt like it would gobble me up, like the wolf would a little girl in a children's story.

"You're beautiful," I breathed. The air, strangely electric as he was taking off the helmet, subsided somewhat.

His face, so full of emotion that every muscle twitch, every glance betrayed him, softened as he whispered, "Were you expecting a monster?"

I started, "Of course not. You're just... less lanky than I remember. You're all grown up, Lord Ren."

"And you're more polite than the little girl who would run down the halls, smashing into vases and cutting her arm open," He didn't smile, I got the feeling he never smiled, but there was a flash of mirth in his eyes. For me, that was just as good.

"My mom managed to beat some manners into me," I rolled up my sleeve, exposing a long, jagged scar down my forearm. It was old now, faded just like our few childhood memories, but it was there, "I remember that, by the way."

"I was ordered to leave the planet," Kylo stepped towards me, tone even, "Until you slipped up and revealed yourself again, or until you were caught. To track down... other things."

"You're a busy man."

"Iliana..." He stopped, now a foot from me, "You said you don't want a teacher. That you want to explore the Force and let it guide you. Then why not join me? We can explore the Force... together." Kylo held out a hand towards me, his face impassive but somehow... warm, "You can learn from the Force  _and_  learn from me. And I... I can learn from you."

My mouth slowly slid open as I stared at his outstretched hand. Him, learning from me? I couldn't tell if it was a trap or not, and for once when I reached out to the whispers, I found only fog and clouds for my trouble. I bit my lip - the same place from before - and almost immediately tasted copper as I slowly raised a hand towards his. There was a pull here that I couldn't deny. His words were... softer than before, and he was right. We could learn from each other; I could show him how both sides, together, are more powerful than they are apart. And we could explore this... whatever it was.

When my fingers touched his, I could  _feel_ him. Like his neck before, and the helmet before that. He was  _real._  He was  _here_. But at the same time, he was neither of those things.

I laughed. It was a shuttering, breathy sound, "I  _can_  feel you." My eyes snapped up to his bottomless ones, "How is this possible?  _Why_  is this possible?"

"I... don't know," Kylo's fingers slid down mine with a barely-there pressure, sort of tickling down to my open palm. His voice was thick and intense and his gaze broke mine to stare at our hands, "But I want to find out. Iliana-" Then his eyes - so dark in the light they were like obsidian - captured mine again, "-Where are you?"

"I..."

His other hand rose up and, taking a bit of excess leather between his teeth, the glove was pulled off. It dropped and vanished, like his helmet had. He pressed a couple fingers to my lip where I'd split it open again and  _pressed_. I could feel it. I could really  _feel_  it.

It made me want to cry.

"It must be wonderful; not to feel pain," his voice was so laced with emotion that the surge of it all, all of this and all these feelings and the pure _Force_  between us made a tear slip down my cheek, "Tell me where you are. Please."

"In the capitol," I swallowed thickly, "I-I'm in the-"

The door burst open and Yasmyn stormed in with one of the Resistance men right behind her, "Hey Iliana, we need to-" Kylo vanished. Not with a flash, or a fade or anything. Just... one moment he was there, and in the other he was gone. Yasmyn was at my side in an instant, "Are you okay? We've taken the city mostly, especially the government offices. We're moving there now so it's more safe while the Resistance roots out the last remaining stormtroopers in the city."

I didn't look at her, even when she moved to stand  _exactly_ where Kylo had, "I-I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed is all; there was a lot of fighting and explosions and stuff." I forced a smile, but it was shaky at best, "I'm not used to it like you guys are."

"Well, if that's the case, we should get you to the government buildings faster," She patted my shoulder, "And get something for that cut."

"Yeah..."

She steered me out of the room, three other Resistance members in tow. I noticed Poe wasn't with her, but he was still probably piloting overhead somewhere. I barely had the wherewithal to grab my backpack before we left. For once, I felt shame. I'd nearly given in and told him where I was; even though it wouldn't matter much because of the take-over.

And light-years away a man stood, staring down at blood-coated fingertips.

* * *

It was difficult to ignore the waves of nausea as Yasmyn stopped the ground car in front of the government buildings. They were old and beige-grey, great stone pillars and ancient carved reliefs adorning the place. A great deal of it was changed - many new additions of First Order grey modules - but the grand steps into the marble-floored atrium were the same.

I could almost see my little brown-haired self dashing up the steps, giggling with my exasperated mother trailing behind.

Or even before that, seeing off my father when he had missions or meetings.

And when we went up the main grand staircase and turned a corner towards where I remembered there being small office, I was overwhelmed for a moment. There was the windowsill where I first saw Ben Solo using the Force. And where he'd seen me.

"Iliana?"

I shook my head and followed Yasmyn inside the room, "Sorry, just thinking."

"Don't think  _too_  hard; you'll give yourself a headache."

From the window, I could see the city. Plumes of smoke lifted from buildings, mostly in the inner city but with a few on the outskirts. There was no planes in the sky now. I turned to Yasmyn, eyes wide, "You hit civilians."

She was confused, and looked out the window behind me. Then, her face darkened, "No on purpose. The stormtroopers retreated from the inner city and we gave chase. There-" She pointed at one of the far plumes, "-and there-" and another plume, "-are where the Resistance cornered them. They started torching everything, rather than get caught."

I could feel the pain from those sectors. The darkness of death and destruction and havoc and... I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will it all away. But it went nowhere, and within the Force I could still feel it. All around me, the pain and suffering of both sides. Just like when the First Order took the planet when I was eighteen. In that, at least, the two factions were the same.

Glints in the sky betrayed the Resistance force in low orbit. Dozens of large ships; none the size of a Star Destroyer, but at least one was close, "It's funny that there's so much fighting over a little planet with little strategic value."

"This isn't really much fighting," Yasmyn said, "Turshaval's only switched allegiances three times in the last twenty-odd years. I know some places closer to the regional boundaries that it seems like switch monthly."

"Four."

"What?"

I looked back at her, "Turshaval was an independent planet not allied with either Republic or First Order once. I think I was three or four when they first took over."

"I didn't really count back then."

I shrugged, "No one ever does."

The sun had set by the time the smoke subsided. Yasmyn was called away and I was left alone. No one really needed this room; it was the office of some minor official who was probably evacuated, dead, or captured at this point. I spent time reading books, almost wishing Lord Ren would appear. Almost, because the thought of him made a sick knot twist in my stomach. I'd vowed to stay hidden to stay free, and his honeyed words had nearly made me forget that. My fists clenched as the stars began to appear. The man was a master manipulator.

The door opened and I turned to see Poe, "Yasmyn said you'd be here. General Leia just arrived on a shuttle from the Raddus. During debriefing, I told her about you and... she wants to talk."

Of course she did. I stood from my spot by the window, "Can I go back to Hallaport yet?"

He held the door open for me, "You really do have no interest in joining us?"

I sighed, "It's not that exactly. It's... complicated."

He shrugged and led me through the halls. They were sparsely lit; the attack must have knocked out some of the power lines. As Poe led me to the General that I knew was Kylo Ren's mother, I thought about Poe's words. I had tried hard not to pick a side in the conflict. I knew that, if I thought about it enough and studied and looked into the options  _thoroughly_ , I would side with the Resistance. Not for deference to their beliefs in democracy, but their penchant for freedom. However, nothing had changed; I just wanted to be free to explore the Force. Not be led by hypocrites who advocated for entirely Light side or entirely Dark side.

It would be impossible to miss General Leia when we entered. Despite being rather short compared to those around her, she commanded a presence far and above anyone I had ever met. A perfect blend of steely-eyed intelligence and wisdom, her hands clasped in front of her and a deep brown cloak obscuring her figure. Her hair was much grayer than I remember, face crinkled and neck more tense. She smiled when I approached, causing more wrinkles to appear around her mouth and eyes.

"I remember you now," Her voice had an aged gravelly quality to it, sort of like warm spring water over rocks, "Amali's daughter."

"General Organa," I inclined my head. The woman radiated warmth, kindness, and light. My mother had preferred going by her middle name than her first, Jaihana. She wasn't a fan of my grandmother, her namesake who was a senator that voted in Palpatine as Emperor.

"Leia is fine, dear," she waved a dismissive hand. Looking around the room at the few still present, she added, "Leave us for a moment, please. I'd like to speak to Iliana alone."

With a few grumbles, they filed out one by one. Poe was last to leave, shooting me a strange look before doing so. Nerves knotted in my stomach and suddenly, I was afraid of this conversation. Leia smiled and patted the chair about a foot or two in front of the one she occupied. I took it as she asked, "Poe tells me you're Force-sensitive."

I nodded, "Just like you."

Her smile fell just a fraction, "That I am."

It was easy to see, the unbridled Force that moved around the General. She was unfocused, untrained, just like me. But even more so; I could tell just from looking that she didn't listen to the whispers as I did.

Leia leaned back in her seat, "I thought I sensed something back then. I brought it up to your mother, but she refused to even entertain the thought of me sending you to my brother, Luke, for training."

_Screams of anguish. They were burning, burning from the inside as betrayal clawed at their insides, burning outside as the flames licked at their corpses. They burned and they screamed, though no sound passed their lips. It was their souls that screamed, for they were already dead on the whim of a man they trusted. Trusted as a brother, as a friend, and now he stood with coal black robes and a sword of light that burned and crackled with the uncontrollable rage that consumed his heart._

I blinked, "No offense, but I'm rather glad she didn't."

"Yes..." Leia's smile vanished. I don't know if she'd seen the carnage I had in the Force in that moment, but either way she added, "Poe told me you've seen my son."

"He came here to find me," I said, "Sometimes I'd use the Force to help someone at the base - they'd trip and I'd catch them, or something like that - and it was reported one to many times I guess. As far as I know, he was ordered to root me out of hiding."

"And how did you hide so well?" Leia asked, "I know the Order; if they'd seen anyone use the Force, they would be detained immediately."

It was easier to show than to tell. Looking the General right in the eye, I expanded my mind to encompass the room around us. Behind me, near the door, was a bookshelf. A book with a gold-inlaid spine wobbled, pulled slowly from the others, and hovered in the air. It stayed for a few seconds before shooting towards us. I caught it without looking.

"You can used the Force without physical movements, without even looking," She was impressed and suddenly, just a tad worried.

I shook my head, "Not without looking. I don't need my eyes to see, General."

"And who taught you how to do this?"

"The whispers."

Her brow furrowed, "The whispers?"

"It's... hard to explain," The maybe three people I'd tried to explain them to never really seemed to get it. Even Kylo Ren, though I'd only mentioned them a handful of times, didn't understand, "I feel... sensations. Feelings that are not words but form words and guidance in my head. Move here, not there, do this, not that. I feel..." I nearly bit my lip before remembering that I still had that cut there. It was a habit I'd thought I'd broken years ago, but in the last month seemed to be making it's horrid return, "I feel like the Force itself teaches me."

"Really," Her eyebrows rose, "You speak very wise for your age. Forgive me because I have forgotten, but how old are you?"

"Twenty-five, ma'am."

"So young, but so wise," Leia said.

I knew what she wanted to ask, even though she was hesitated and skirting around the question, "He looks well."

Her shoulders dropped as Leia loosed a breath I hadn't realized she was holding, "He does?"

I nodded, smiling for just a moment before I frowned, "But he's... conflicted. I-I, ma'am... Leia..." She should I know. I should tell her. I  _needed_  to tell her because this woman is the mother of the man that kept appearing before me, who was searching for me to seduce me to the Dark side of the Force and use me as a pawn in galactic games I had no interest in.

"Breathe, child," She smiled for me, "Take as much time as you need."

Of course she would say that. Anything to get me talking about her son, "I... I technically haven't met your son in person yet."

"No?" She sounded surprised.

"I... I see him through the Force," I gestured between us, "As real as I see you now. It's-it's only happened a few times, and first it was only in dreams of sorts, but it's like... it-it's like..."

"Like talking to an old friend," Leia's words sounded strangely knowing, "I haven't experienced that  _exactly_ , but something similar. Do you know why this is happening? Why you see my son?"

The whispers told me why, but it was hard to put into words. I hadn't even voiced this theory to Kylo, "Because I knew him those short days when we were younger. Because he was sent to look for me now, but I am too good at blending in. The only reason he found me at all was because General Hux ordered interrogations of the staff and they found out that I can't feel pain..."

"And he remembered that from when you cut your arm," Leia said, "You're mother was so worried the gash would get infected."

I nodded, "And I felt him coming for me, so I ran."

"How did he look?" Leia asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, "How did Ben look?"

I didn't have trouble describing him, because in a blink the man stood next to his mother. No warning but a whisper from the Force as he appeared there, ignorant of who he stood next to. My mouth dropped open and snapped shut a second later. Neither knew the other was there, because technically one wasn't there at all."

"He looks... handsome, ma'am," I swallowed thickly, "Tall, broader shoulders. Less awkward than at fifteen. His hair's longer than I remember, too."

"Who are you talking to?" Kylo's eyes narrowed dangerously. He wasn't wearing his helmet at all this time, and I idly wondered why.

I wanted to cry. He couldn't see the woman whose concern for him fell off her in waves. He couldn't even feel her presence, like she couldn't feel his. They were light-years away from each other and I was the only one who could see them both like this. It was strange; he hadn't appeared in the presence of another person like this before.

Out of the corner of my eye - I couldn't look away from Kylo since he appeared - Leia started, "You can see him. Right now, through the Force?"

"Yes," I breathed, shuddering.

" _Who are you talking to_?!" Kylo's voice deepened, rage darkening his expression. A shaking began in his form, rising from his tightly clenched fists to his shoulders and then his chest.

"Ma'am, L-Leia I'm sorry I..." As I stumbled to speak, all of Kylo's building rage seemed to vanish. His shoulders fell slack and I couldn't look in his conflicted eyes anymore. I stared at my own hands, "I'm just sorry."

I could hear the General's smile, "It's quite alright, Iliana."

"Stop talking to her."

"He does scare me sometimes, General Leia," I admitted, knowing full well he could hear me but not caring at the moment, "He's inside my head just as much as I am starting to be in his, and it frightens me."

"Stop  _talking_  to her!"

"What's he telling you now?"

"He wants me to stop talking to you."

Kylo jumped into my vision again, blocking everything out with the black of his cloak and clutching my shoulders in his vice-like grip. This was different than before. Different than any other vision, because this wasn't a slow build-up of touch. This was his fingers gripping with a pressure so hard I knew it would bruise, even if I couldn't feel the pain of it.

" _Stop_!"

But I didn't. This man couldn't hurt me. I couldn't see Leia through him, and after a moment of my head jerking up to meet his frenzied gaze, I looked back down to through his torso, "Lord Ren, let me go."

"Don't you  _dare_  talk to that woman about me!"

"Iliana!"

Suddenly, the Knight of Ren was gone. Leia had jumped up and  _through_  him, trying to brush something off my bare shoulders. That was the spark needed, and Kylo was gone just as quickly as he'd come. But through... whatever this was, I could feel his anger. Anger and pain, traveling through light-years to spear me right in the chest.

I looked down from Leia's worried eyes to her hands, now where his had been on my shoulders. Leia rubbed them a moment, the panic beginning to subside, before removing her hands. There, on my skin as clear for anyone to see, were bruises forming in the shape of a hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Update are gonna be hard to do with classes and everything. I'mma try hard, though :)

**Comment Replies:**

FireboltRose7559: He is. I'm asexual, but I can appreciate when someone is attractive. :D

shieldmyheart: I love writing Force scenes like that; anything with abilities to do with the mind and 'psychic' abilities is great. It's why I use those concepts all the time in my original writing.

HereticDawn: I write both first and third person stories. Mostly first though, especially with stories where I'm trying to focus on a character's thoughts and feelings. Sure, switching POVs between Iliana and Kylo would be fun and all, but that almost makes Kylo too predictable. Instead, with the first person, I can get deep inside Iliana's head and her reactions too Kylo, and play with Kylo's personality a bit. It's just fun >D

Abracadabra21: I'm glad I could help you relax :)

Everyone else: I'm glad y'all are enjoying my story xD I'll update when I can, but I am a full time student and such :)


	7. Battle of Wills

**Disclaimer:** pls don't sure me, Disney, I am le poor

* * *

Chapter Six

**Battle of Wills**

_"For almost a minute the two of us were locked in a battle of wills that had no possible winner, only a different order of losing."_

_\- Mira Grant, Parasite_

* * *

Leia brought me to a room late at night, well after the altercation with Kylo. We had sat and talked for hours, occasionally joined for a few moments by someone who needed a decision or something from the Resistance General. She was such a kind, sad old woman that it made my heart ache. She loved her son so much, and missed him. I wondered how long it had been since she'd seen him. I didn't have the strength to ask.

"Stay here for the night. We should have the rest of the planet under control by mid-day tomorrow," Leia led me into the room. It was large, probably used by travelling diplomats to the tiny planet. It looked like it hadn't been used in ages.

"And then I can go back to Hallaport?"

When I turned to the General, her shoulders had sunken, "I know Poe has talked to you about this already, however-"

"This isn't my fight," I couldn't look at her sadness, and turned away, "Both my parents believed in different sides, joined, and it killed them. If I help you - if I join the Resistance - that could be me. I won't be able to go where I want, do what I want... explore the Force like I want."

"You make it sound like you would be a mindless slave. No better than a stormtrooper," Leia said, "But I know that you know that's not true. No one in my command is forced to undertake any mission. Everyone is allowed the volunteer, or refuse."

"People died today," I looked out the window. It was dark out, "Did you feel it too?"

"Yes."

"But you still do it. You still order more life taken."

"Yes."

"How does that make you better than the First Order?" I looked over my shoulder at her.

"Because if we don't, then the First Order will keep taking systems. Keeping taking planets. Keep forcing their ideals down the throats of every system, every species," Leia shook her head, "Everyone who gives their lives in the Resistance knows that we are fighting to keep ourselves free. You say you just want to be free, Iliana. The First Order isn't freedom. It's conformity, and it's the dark side."

"Dark doesn't mean evil, General."

"It's doesn't mean good, either."

"Good point," Back to the star-filled sky. I sighed, leaning against the windowsill, "... I'll think about it."

I could hear her smile, "That's all I ask. And yes, if tomorrow you want to go back to Hallaport, I'll have Poe escort you."

"Yasmyn too, if it's okay. I'd want to say goodbye."

"Of course."

The door closed, signaling the Generals departure. The room they gave me was sparse; evidently it was used by visiting First Order officials. I sat on the wide windowsill, looking out over the retaken city. There were moody, dark clouds in the sky and I wondered if the smoke from before led to their color. It didn't smell like rain, not yet.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I didn't turn to look at him this time. My eyes were for the clouds.

"We are nothing to the will of the Force, it seems."

"Mmm."

Neither of us spoke. He was standing nearby, mere inches behind my left shoulder, but I didn't want to break the strange calm that settled over the room. I could feel him through the Force, fingers touching at the edges of my mine. Not prying, not attacking... just curious. He wanted to know more about me, and I ignored how that made my heart swell. I knew about all the terrible things Kylo Ren has done. The stories filtered down to the mooks at the outpost in different ways, depending on whether it was the Resistance or First Order in charge.

He broke the silence, "You're not afraid of me."

"Well, you're not here," I shrugged, "And I said it before; it's not like you can cause me pain, anyway."

"I bruised you," His voice was thick, with a strange and almost regretful timbre to it, "When you were talking to the Resistance General."

"When I was talking to  _your_ _mother_ ," I looked to the side just enough to raise my sleeve. Only one of the finger-shaped bruises showed until I did that. Now, a near complete hand print was shown off for him. His breath shuddered, "But it'll be gone in a few days."

He said nothing, but I felt how the Force within him enveloped me with feelings of regret. Not sadness per se, just regret. He wanted to apologize, but I got the feeling that Kylo Ren wasn't the sort of man to say he was sorry. He did step closer, edges of his cloak just brushing my jacket, and rested a hand on my bruised shoulder. And I could feel him. It was a more ghost of a touch than anything, since without any interruptions I could focus on the feeling. It wasn't Kylo Ren's physical touch, merely a manifestation of his Force that my body couldn't distinguish. But my mind and soul still comprehended that his touch wasn't 'real'. I wondered what his real touch would feel like.

"Y-you..." His hand was trembling, voice shocked. I hadn't realized just how much of my mental defenses his soft probing got through. Then, after a moment of utter silence, he stilled and I felt him caressing the edges of my mind again, "You can."

I chuckled. I couldn't help it; did he think I was that stupid? That naive? I brushed his hand off, wrapped my arms around my knees as I brought them to my chest, then finally looked at him, "You won't manipulate me,  _Kylo Ren,_  you-"

His expression was dark and intense, but not angry. As if he stared into my very soul, looking for something neither of us knew the answer to. Kylo trapped me on the windowsill, one hand above my head on the window jamb while the other rested on the sill itself, by my feet. When he spoke, it was slow, methodical, and low-voiced. Like every word was chosen with care and weight, "You want to explore the Force. Explore... whatever this connection growing between us. Well know that I feel it too, Iliana." His eyes - so intense as they held mine like a vice - only grew darker and swam with more emotion when he added, "That's the only reason I have come up with for this. I was sent to find the Force sensitive in Hallaport. And I was... intrigued, when I knew it was you. Someone I saw only a handful of times before. And you feel..." The fingers at my brain prodded, just enough that I sucked in a sharp breath and threw his presence right out. He paused a moment, moving back an inch that gave me the much needed distance to breathe again.

"I don't need to see your mind to know how you feel," Kylo pushed off the window and backed up. I wondered for a moment how I looked to him; was I perched on a window of the  _Finalizer_  in his eyes? " _You_  want to study why the Force bonds us.  _You_  are curious about me. If you were so against me, you would shut me out just as readily as you just threw me out of your mind."

"I-I don't know how to stop this," I looked out at the city again, unable to hold that intense gaze any longer.

"You're lying."

"You don't know me."

"I know enough."

"You can't-"

"I know because I feel it too," There it was again; the powerful, deep tone and slow word choice, "Our mutual curiosity and raw... raw power. The Force isn't doesn't act on its own. It acts when we, consciously or not, manipulate it to act."

"What are you saying?" Don't answer, I pleaded in my mind. I knew what his answer was already.

When I next heard his voice, it was right at my ear, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. My whole body tensed, like a elastic band pulled taut to near snapping, "I want to know you, Iliana. Who you are now, who you were. Why you are so... powerful with the Force. I want to know you, and you want to know me."

"I-I don't." I did, I did,  _I did_.

"We are doing this to ourselves," He spoke his honeyed words again. Now it was my turn to tremble, "And if this... intensity... if it exists like this when there is  _lightyears_  between us then, Iliana... how would it be in person?"

I thought my heart would burst out of my chest, it was thumping so hard. I was flush and his fingers again were at my mind. Touching, caressing, never pushing further than I allowed but I was finding myself allowing him in deeper than I ever had because he was  _right_  and-

And I threw him out. I shored up the walls of my mind and  _pushed_. The Force bent to my will and when I looked at the black-haired man again, he was picking himself up off the floor on the other side of the room.

"Get out. Get out," I jumped off the sill and shouted, " _Get OUT!_ "

He vanished, leaving behind only hurt and anger that speared my chest. It was like a thread connecting us and through it I felt his rage at my forcing him out. Kylo Ren was right. I  _did_  know how to stop his appearing before me like this - at least when he was so far away. I would not be his puppet, I wouldn't be manipulated by him or anyone else. Not matter how his intensity stirred a fluttering in my stomach and warm thoughts in my mind.

I stormed from the room just as Yasmyn rushed in. I sensed her alarm; probably from my scream, "Are you okay? We- I heard shouting."

I froze in the hall only long enough to say, "I need to talk to General Organa."

* * *

The next day I was moved to the Resistance flagshoip, the  _Raddus_. Leia was pleased with my decision - Poe and Yasmyn were ecstatic. I was conflicted, and insisted against the large personal room Leia wanted to give me. It was my stipulation for agreeing to do anything for the Resistance. No special treatment. I wasn't here to fight for them; all I wanted was a place a bit safer to hide than on a planet that flip-flopped between the Resistance and the First Order every few years. I also wouldn't put it passed Kylo to send covert operations after me as well, even if the planet was under Resistance control.

Yasmyn suggested I do data analysis and intelligence. Poe wanted to teach me to fight, maybe pilot for them. Everyone wanted me to use the Force to aid the Resistance. Leia was the only one who left the decision up to me, which was how I ended up in the mess hall of the  _Raddus_  cantina as a cook. A job that didn't help their goals at all, except keeping people fed.

To my shock, a few days later when my duties were to begin, I found both Nunes and Petra among the crew in the cantina.

Petra made a beeline, squealing as she threw her arms around me, "You're alive!"

"Uhm," I stuttered a bit, smiling as she pulled away, "Petra? Nunes? What... What are you...?"

"We both signed up for the Resistance first chance once they got to Hallaport," Nunes said, a smile if his own telling me he was glad to see me, "After their little interrogations, the choice wasn't hard."

Petra finally let me go, "I'm gonna train to be a pilot, and Nunes here is gonna work as a mechanic when he's not helping out in the kitchens."

"Wow; a pilot Petra?" I said, "That's... That's big."

"They said I had a knack for it-"

"She high-jacked a TIE during the capture of Hallaport and blew up an escaping First Order transport."

My jaw dropped and I was sure the blood drained from my face, "You did  _what_?!"

Petra's face turned scarlet, "It was nothing."

"What about um... Everyone else?"

"About half volunteered with us," Nunes said, "The rest either stayed or left."

That didn't answer my true question, "And... and Malia?"

The two exchanged a long glance.

That night, I laid in my bunk, unable to sleep. Malia was gone. They didn't know where or with who, but with her family in the First Order, it wasn't hard to guess. I was worried for two reasons, both selfish and unselfish. I hoped she got off planet with the First Order alright. Maybe she was with her parents. The other, entirely selfish, was that if Kylo found out I knew and was close friends with someone in First Order custody...

I bit back a cry and threw Kylo's presence from my mind. Did my thinking of him summon the man now?

"I come in peace, Iliana."

He was sitting on the side of my bunk. It didn't sag with his weight, another reminder that he wasn't really here. I looked around, cautious before doing a little digging of my own to project thoughts into his head,  _'I can't talk here. There's people around.'_

"Is there?" He seemed... Surprised, "General Organa gave you a room on your own, I assumed."

_'She tried. I turned her down. I'm just the kitchen help.'_

"You're joking," He was incredulous, maybe amused.

_'Not even a little.'_ I rolled over, my blanket-covered knees lightly knocking against his hip. He sat maybe at the level of my stomach.

"You would have your own room, if you were on the  _Finalizer_ ," Kylo looked down at me, sort of sideways and through his lashes, "Decorated however you want. Your own kitchen, where you could make Chandrilan grappaberry pancakes whenever you want."

_'That's specific,'_  I propped my head up by the elbow, cheek in hand. Chandrilan grappaberry pancakes were my favorite food; mother made them for me when the Resistance controlled Turshaval,  _'How did you know that?'_

"I was born on Chandrila," His fingers - long and ungloved - picked at something on his end, then smoothed it out again, "And I've been in your head as much as you've been in mind."

I started a bit, scooting back maybe an inch. The thought of him, in my head enough to have pulled something like that out without me knowing was... unsettling,  _'What else do you know?'_

"You never really had to deal with someone trying to pull information from your head," He said. I couldn't see his face now, but felt a strange sort of mirth from him, "Your mental defenses are... extrodinary, for anything you actively don't want me to know. Anything else... only a push-" It felt like fingers slowly combing through the back of my hair, down the scalp to the hairline. Soft, caressing... amazing, "-gives me."

I sucked in a sharp breath and threw him out, glaring. He wasn't there now, I was sure of it,  _'You could ask those things. You don't need to rip everything out.'_

"It's easier to just take what I want," He shrugged, "I have the ability, and there is no reason why I shouldn't use it."

_'If you're trying to convert me, make me join you, it sure doesn't help."_

"You're angry at me."

I sat up, glaring at him,  _'You're goddamn right I am! I didn't say you could go into my mind like that!'_

"But you're doing the same thing, right now, to me," Kylo turned, slowly, and fixed me with an intense blank-yet-emotional stare as the shadows cast from the bunk above me obscured his face just a bit, "I didn't say you could just put your thoughts, your words, in  _my_  head to make it easier for you since there's people around you right now."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't look at him and whipped away, curling up on the bed with my back facing him. It was childish and it wasn't like me, but I couldn't face him because Kylo Ren was right. I hadn't asked; I'd just projected my thoughts into his head without asking. I wanted to project again, tell him that it wasn't like pulling out information - if anything I was putting it in - but the comparison was there and it was valid.

"I feel you," His heat was at my back. I could feel it through the threadbare blankets, "You're conflicted. The two things aren't the same, not completely, but they're close enough. And I didn't say I minded, Iliana."

I shivered when he said my name, and curled in the blankets tighter.

"It's easier in this instance to merely put what you want to say into my head as thought," A warm hand rested on my shoulder. His emotions washed over me; calm, collected, not as wrathful and angry as I knew him to be, "Just like it's easier for me to simply pluck the little minutiae from your mind. We get to skip the boring 'what's your favorite color' stage, at least."

There was logic, but still. It was a violation. A violation  _he_  didn't mind in this instance... but at his own words, he couldn't just pull anything important from my mind. Not without concerted effort, and I could just throw him out then, at least with all this distance between us. I wanted to speak, to say something to him, but that would mean either speaking out loud and risking waking someone up and them overhearing, or projecting my thoughts into his mind again. With the comparison leaving a dark stain on the latter and the former not a real option, I was left torn.

"I don't need to poke around to know you don't want to project your thoughts now, not with what I said," The bed still didn't sag when he leaned over me, in the darkness of the  _Raddus_  barracks. I wanted to look up at him, but at the same time... I didn't. I was frightened. Not of him, but of this feeling he caused in my chest. The tightness, the pull in a dozen different directions because my stomach flipped when he used that low tone. Yet he was the darkest of men, dark with but a spark of light, and would pull me down a path I didn't want to go.

"I'm not asking anything right now," Kylo's breath puffed over the shell of my ear, warming it. My whole body shivered, "Like you, I'm just exploring this Force bond that's developing."

He was light years away. He wasn't here. I could just throw him out again and sleep. I  _should_  throw him out and sleep-

"You don't want to," Kylo rested two fingers on my temple with the light touch of a feather. He trailed it down, down, down my cheek, off my jaw and down my neck to rest, all five fingers now splayed out, on my collarbone. One of his fingers dipped, just by a hair, passed the hem of my collar. I felt his shudder through those fingers, "And neither do I."

I rolled over onto my back, looking up at him with wonder. This man, this not-Sith Knight of Ren, was stirring such feelings in me that I hadn't felt before. It might just be the Force. Maybe it was only his presence, his animal magnetism. Or something else altogether, but...

He was smiling. Actually smiling, though it was just a curve at the edges of his mouth. That mouth, just a bit on the large side with lips parted a hair, that I found myself staring at as heat rose up my cheeks.

Kylo Ren drew close, so close that his breath fanned across my cheeks and unsettled a few strands of my hair. He swept those aside with a hand, one whose fingers threaded through the hair by my ear. His eyes were not searching, not asking, but locked on mine.

"Wha..." I spoke, gulping because my throat was desert-parched. I bit my lip to stop myself. I couldn't risk speaking here.

His eyes - already black in the shadows - seemed to somehow darken still, "Don't do that."

I blinked, tilting my head a bit and was about to ask why before I tasted the copper. Right. Of course.

Kylo's hand left my hair to brace himself and the other traced my bottom lip. His voice was dark as his eyes and thick and gravelly, "You bleed so easily but by the Force when you bite your lip..."

"Kylo..." My own voice was unrecognizable. Breathless, almost keening, and so quiet.

He froze above me, the pressure of his finger on my bottom lip parting it from the top. Then Kylo's eyes flashed, and he pressed against me, lips so close I could really  _feel_  the feather-like touch-

"Iliana? You okay?" A head of the Resistance member above me - I think his name was Jax? - poked over the edge of his bunk, "Thought I heard you talking in your sleep."

Kylo Ren had already vanished.

"... I'm fine."

* * *

Over the next week, I was torn between reaching out to Kylo and keeping him away. I didn't know what to think about all this anymore. The only thing I was sure of was that the burgeoning intensity of our connection frightened me. He was there, always, in the corners of my vision as sure as he was in the corners of my mind. Glimpses of black in my vision, flowing robes and piercing eyes. Like my own personal phantom.

Petra noticed the shift first, but I brushed off her worry. Veins of stress rooted through me like a tree whose bower was lightyears away.

I'd been in Kylo Ren's mind more than I wanted to admit. I had seen things; the little things, like his caressing non-questions coaxed out of me. His favorite color, contrary to popular belief, wasn't black. It was forest green. His favorite food was actually a meal; whipped potatoes and gravy with a medium rare Tauntaun steak, salad with creamy dressing, and side of garlic bread. He hated tomatoes, but loved tomato-based spicy pasta sauces. I was sure he put these things in my head, because even though I yearned to learn more about one of the most feared men in the galaxy, I wasn't out searching.

A month passed when, as I helped fill some buffet sections (unlike the First Order, most mess halls in the Resistance were entirely buffet, versus the tiered system of who gets what), Yasmyn walked in with a deep-set frown.

"Leia sent me to get you."

I set the serving fork in a pile of mashed potatoes, "Me? But I said-"

"I know, I know, but the General wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

I bristled, but then my shoulders sagged when I saw the pleading look in her eyes. She wasn't telling me to do whatever Leia wanted; she just wanted me to hear the General out.

Leia stood at one end of a long, oblong table in what looked like a meeting chamber on the  _Raddus_. A few others were there; a tall fishy-looking man she introduced as Admiral Akbar, a purple-haired woman, and a few others. She dismissed them as soon as Yasmyn and I entered, then dismissed my... friend... as well. Was Yasmyn my friend, as Malia and Petra? I'd like to think so.

"I need to ask you to do something," Leia held up a hand to silence me before I even spoke, "I know what I said. That we wouldn't force you into anything. It's your choice; and I won't turn you out if you refuse. You can walk out that door and go back to the mess hall whenever you want."

Leia sat in one of the larger chairs furthest from the entry, gesturing to another closest to her. I eyed it for a moment, swallowing my weariness, before sitting. Yasmyn was right; Leia was honorable, and wasn't the type to force me to help them. I might as well hear them out.

"Do you remember my brother, Luke?" She smiled a bit when I shook my head, "I didn't think so. He came to Turshaval only once, about a month or so before Han and I sent Ben to him. He was checking up on my son, to make sure his formal training was really... necessary." Her eyes went downcast for a moment, "He's been gone for about six years now, ever since Ben... did what he did."

_She could barely see the bodies through her watery, tear stricken eyes. Leia hadn't known what to expect when Luke contacted her through the Force and told her, and when the nearest Republic outpost confirmed it. It was a massacre, yes, one of fire and horror, but the worst was the efficiency of it. Blood flowed through the cracked and broken cobble streets, and the odd wall was marked with charred blaster shots, but the bodies... they were... perfect. Ruthlessly gunned down with precise shots. No prisoners taken, no quarter given. She came expecting a battlefield. What Leia saw was the remains of an execution field, half disguised in the remains of the fire. Even those taken by **her son's**  blade were done with a cold yet angry sort of efficiency. Desiring of death and bloodshed, but preferring it done cleanly and with the least pain to the recipient._

_With the exception of a few. A few rooms, where death hung strongest, were splattered. These few suffered. These few, she knew, deserved it in the mind of their murderer. In the mind of **her son**._

"Luke was the Jedi who taught Ben," Leia looked at me, everything in her screaming both of her tiredness and honesty, "I should tell you that we need him back because only the Jedi can defeat what my son has become, but that's not the truth. I want him back because he is my brother and in all these years - though I know he's alive - I haven't felt him. I just want my family back."

And then I saw her for what she was. Not a General or a Senator or a Princess. Leia Organa was a sad, old woman. One who loved, had lost those she loved, but never allowed them to leave her thoughts and her heart. Not for the light or the dark, but merely because she couldn't let them go.

"I don't get what this has to do with me?" I said, eyebrows raised, "I... I can't find your brother."

"But you can help," Leia pressed some buttons on a table, and a stellar map of sorts with lots of text appeared in the air above it, "Luke didn't mean to be found, ever. He didn't leave any intentional map behind; no coordinates, nothing. But I do know what he went searching for - the first Jedi temple - and believe that, if we find his research,  _that_  is the map I need."

"His research... is a map?"

She nodded, "I have all Luke's old books and manuscripts that weren't destroyed with his temple. I have R2D2, our old astromech droid, but it's been deactivated since Luke left. I think he disabled it to stop his research from getting out. And my brother is a genius; in all this time, we haven't figured out how to restart Artoo."

"Can I look at the droid? Maybe I could-"

"That's not what I need your help with, Iliana," Leia shook her head, "Artoo is... special, to a lot of us. And I know that whatever decryption and mechanical and electronic methods Luke used, it's keyed to a specific activation frequency. He was brilliant, tying the lock to his research to the research itself. It can't be unlocked-"

"Unless you already know something of what's inside," I finished for her, eyes widening, "So you... need a key. A key for a key."

"And I believe that key is in part of the location of the original Jedi temple," Leia nodded, "Like part of a map - well, it  _is_  a map really, if I'm right and Luke found the Jedi temple - that will only activate if I can find the rest."

"... I still don't get why you need me."

"Luke started his search before Ben's betrayal, and vanished soon after. I figure that, if I can find whatever he found then that finished his starchart to the temple, it will help us access Artoo to get the rest," Leia pushed another button and the map zoomed in onto a planet, "About a month after Ben betrayed us, Luke went to speak to one of his research contacts on Coruscant, Umila Tekka. He never came back from that trip, so I assume whatever he found from her is what I need to find my brother."

"Please, just... tell me why you need  _me_ ," I stifled a groan.

"Because Umila was one of Luke's apprentices, years before Ben, who left the Jedi life for another. She's Force-sensitive and, when Yasmyn found her on Tatooine, she asked for you by name."

I started, eyes wide, "Me?" The whispers floated in the air, telling me the truth of Leia's words. She wasn't tricking me. This woman I'd never heard of before apparently knew me, somehow, "But... but I've never heard of her before."

"I thought so," Leia's shoulders sank, "But that doesn't change the fact that she asked for you. Umila won't tell anyone what she told Luke unless you're in the party meeting her on Coruscant."

"... so you need me to go with the Resistance to meet her."

Leia nodded, "... I had great respect for your mother. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"But you know..." I started to bit my lip before remembering that it was still scabbed from mine and Kylo's... altercation, "I-I don't... I mean, I agree with a lot of the freedom and democracy that the Republic and the Resistance stand for, but... but I also agree with the need for order like the First Order like my father did and and I... I uh..."

"Please, Iliana," Leia leaned forward and took both my hands in her own, "I can see you're struggling so much with what to do, where you stand. All you want is to be free to do what you feel is right. Well, all I want is my family back. Peace is my ultimate wish, but... if I was to admit it... a part of me wants my family back more."

And I could see in, deep in her expressive eyes. She was a woman who lost so much, then gained, then lost everything again. Leia Organa wanted to capture something again. Happier years, a short period of time between the great war of the Rebellion and that of the Resistance. While most of the General was duty to her Republic and the ideals of democracy, there was a kernel there. A bit of not exactly darkness in the unyielding light of her, but just a parental longing. I was sure Leia Organa would never have true darkness within her.

"I'll do it."

* * *

**Author's note:**  Don't be mad but I've had like... two and a half chapters done for about a month and a half. Just, life happened yo.


	8. Into the Spider's Web

**Disclaimer:**  I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Seven

**Into the Spider's Web**

_"Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible."_

_Lisa Kleypas, Sugar Daddy_

* * *

He came to me next in the dark halls of the transport vessel to Coruscant. Yasmyn was with me, along with maybe a half dozen Resistance men and women. There was the pilot whose name I didn't catch, a couple gunners, a diplomat of some sort, and two bodyguards. So many people for such a small mission... I wasn't sure if Leia had left anything out, or was just overly cautious. Given what she'd told me, I shouldn't be surprised. Another Force-sensitive, and one who might know the information needed to access Luke Skywalker's research, the key to this 'map' the General was trying to find. Though it was off-putting, I couldn't really be surprised.

It was my unease that tugged at him through the Force, "You are worried."

I didn't answer. After excusing myself from the rest in the lounge area of the ship, I slunk off to the sleeping quarters. A single room with a half dozen bunks, all arranged in stacks of three on either end of the room. Mine was the top on the left.

I would be alone here, at least for a while, "Hello, Kylo. How are you doing?"

Because of course, he'd followed me, "I should be asking you that. Something's bothering you."

I felt his fingers in my mind, but my walls were as high and thick as ever. He would not get in now, not when I was doing what I said I wouldn't, "I'll be fine. But what about you?" I only looked at him for a second if that, but saw deep-set bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Granted, he always looked... worn, somehow. Never at ease, always calculating, but this... this was pure stress.

"I am..." He sighed and slumped over in some chair. Though Kylo was clear to me as anyone physically there, the chair he sat in was muted and half transparent, "... troubled."

And so I went to him, though the whispers - as usual - screamed for caution. A funny thing, that; always caution, but never danger. How strange, that the Force had only ever warned me from danger around this man when I was close to meeting him in the flesh. A part of me wondered if that meant, should we ever actually meet, it would mean my end.

I sunk to my knees and rested a hand on his leg. His eyes searched mine, dark against my bright blues, and I knew what was wrong, "You're searching for something again. Me?"

"No, no not-" Kylo huffed, snapping his head left, "Of course I have First Order agents and spies keeping an eye out for you, but no."

"Then what's up?"

"Why do you care?" His voice was harsh, accusatory, and his gaze snapped away from mine.

I had to stop myself from moving away from him. He was emanating anger again, rage. Not at me, not completely, but... at someone. So instead, I gripped his leg tighter, and waited until his eyes slowly found mine again, "You said it yourself, Kylo; I want to know you. Because I... w-well, I..."

Now it was my turn to look away. Why  _did_  I care, truly? The Force brought us together, but only because we wanted it to. Because the Force is just that, a force, whispers we heed and manipulate ourselves. But  _why_  did I want to?

"You, you are... um..." I swallowed, thickly, looking with unfocused eyes between two of the bunks on the left wall. Anywhere but him, as a heat rose in my cheeks, "You're complex. I remember that you were so nice when I was a child. Nice, but sad. The person who gave me a name - the Force - for the whispers and powers I had. And now, you're back in my life but you're so... different, but well... the same? And, and you, you..." Another swallow. My face felt like fire now, the words on the tip of my tongue but unable to spill over. My hand fell from his leg, and I stared down at the thin fingers of it.

A long silence stretched between us. When Kylo reached for me, I didn't flinch. A glove fell between us and vanished just before his long fingers pressed under my chin, lifting and turning my face to meet his. Though his face was unreadable, a mix of relief, longing, and a strange sense of self-loathing rolled off him in waves, "You have feelings for me."

My breath hitched. But I held his gaze, eyes narrowing just slightly as I threw his words back at him, "You feel it, too."

He answered me with his fingers trailing to the side of my neck, palm flattening against my pulse and running, slowly, to the juncture of my shoulder. We didn't need words, because the whispers rang the truth loud and clear. Our feelings were laid bare with the truth of the Force. And as that truth sunk in, the agony and worry lines ever present on Kylo's face seemed to fade. Not entirely, but just enough.

Yet when he leaned down this time, eyes fluttering closed and igniting a heat in my belly, I stopped him with a finger to his lips. His eyes snapped open and I spoke before he could ask, "I... not like this. Not... not through this."

His other hand came up, threading through my hair. I half wondered, if anyone walked in, would they see the strands of hair suspended in the air? How would this look to anyone without such a strong connection to the Force? "I am not a Sith, but this reminds me of their creed. This... passion... that I feel." His fingers massaged my scalp and my eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, "If not now, when?"

"Only the Force knows," My hand dropped from his lips and rested once more against his thigh, "To be honest, I'm afraid to meet you."

He blinked, seeming surprised for a moment, before Kylo's expression darkened, "You're right to be."

"I've seen what you can do; the methods of the First Order," I looked down at his feet, "The whispers showed me the Temple. What you did there. And the interrogations back in Hallaport-"

"-would not happen if you gave yourself up to the First Order... to me," There was a thickness, a darkness to his tone. The whispers spoke of caution in the edges of my mind.

"And then be forced to conform," I glared up at the Knight of Ren, "As your apprentice - as Snoke's - as a pawn in this war. I am no one's pawn. I do what I want, when I want, because I believe it  _right_. And... and if keeping myself free means we'll only ever meet like this-"

"No!" His hands shackled my wrist, jerking me forward. I gasped, falling against his chest, face mere millimeters away from the most intense gaze I'd ever seen.

My heart stopped. I wasn't frightened; I knew my wrists would bruise, but it's not like I felt the pain, "Kylo, let me go."

"You  _will_  tell me where you are, Iliana," Kylo said through tightly clenched teeth. I felt the fingers of Force at the base of my skull, more insistent than ever, "I-I won't accept only this."

It was... uncomfortable. I wondered if I would be screaming in pain, if I was literally anyone else, "No."

The fingers dug in, deep into the walls of my soul, bending and bending but never breaking through. It must be easy, to get what one wanted through the Force when the recipient could feel the pain of intrusion. He'd never pushed like this before. With such fear, such reckless anger. The whispers were screaming, building within me with my own anger. How dare he? How dare he think he could just force information from me like this? Like I was just some random prisoner he could rip information from?

When I threw his presence from my mind, it didn't go easily. So I threw Kylo as well, ripping out of his arms as he smacked into something behind him. Wherever the wall was on his side, I supposed.

I wouldn't look at him. I snarled, standing with clenched fists. Then, eyes closed for a full minute and taking deep, cleansing breaths, I fixed him was a hard gaze. And I assaulted him instead.

_Fear. Anger. Uncontrollable rage. Never able to properly show it, always told to suppress it. Passion and anger are the ways to the Dark Side. But the Dark isn't necessarily bad. She had to know that. She had to see the power here. I won't be denied. Not by her, oh Force please not by her. I will have her. Consume her? No. Yes? Mine. I see her. She feels it too. She sees me, sees me like no one ever has. Isn't afraid of me. Doesn't want anything from me. I will have her. Mine. Mine._

"You have no right to me," I stepped to the edge of the bed, standing as tall as I could and speaking in a deathly calm, " _No one_  has  _any_  right to me. I am not  _yours_." His eyes widened, then narrowed. I felt his anger. His rage. Good, let him feel the violation like I had, "You can never hurt me to get what you want,  _Kylo Ren_. Even if you ran me through with that-" I gestured to the T-shaped saber on his hip, "-I wouldn't even whimper."

Then, the whispers abating, I felt suddenly tired. Drained, shoulders slumping and just wanting to be left alone, "I have feelings for the kind teenager I met briefly. The strong leader and warrior who haunts me. But I will  _never_ -" I leaned in, hands splayed on the bed on either side of him and face level with his, "-let that blind me."

And then, to punctuate the point and how little power he had over me, I dismissed him. Just like that, Kylo was gone. For a moment, I felt nothing. Then, through the red thread of Force that connects us, a wave of wrath slammed into my chest. I let it, let it wash over me, penetrate me, and dissipate. Kylo Ren would think twice before trying to take things he had no right to.

* * *

We touched down in Coruscant a few hours later. I wasn't sure what to think of the sprawling city-planet. There was no trees, no greenery, no flowing water. As we touched down, I tried expanding my mind in meditation to get some idea of this place. The cacophony of static that met me brought me slamming back to reality. The Force was abundant here, but shifted. Different. Too busy and chaotic to get a good read on. Too full of pain, sorrow, and anger. But also too... plastic. Too false and fake.

When we stepped off the transport ship, it was easy to see why. Unlike Turshaval and Hallaport, Coruscant was in a constant state of movement and flux. Vendors and shops, blaring broadcasts and flashing advertisements assaulted my senses. Especially here in the spaceport.

I'd seen maybe a half hour of Coruscant before I decided that I didn't like this place at all. How did anyone get any peace here?

Yasmyn and our entourage (minus the diplomat and a couple others) moved with purpose through the throngs of the city center. We weren't headed for the old Senate buildings, but further down. Into the darkness of the city-planet, the perpetual darkness of smog and dust that was the lower levels. Strangely, as we went down, it felt... calmer. Chaotic still, but more uniform. With all the filth and darkness, I wasn't sure what to feel about that.

"In here," Yasmyn ushered me and the couple Resistance men into a seedy looking bar. So seedy that a pair of Twilek were dancing rather provocatively on a bar top for the patrons, "Umila's supposed to meet us here."

I stuck close to the Resistance, a part of me scared that I'd get lost in the throng otherwise. Lights and sounds and smells of alcohol assaulted me. Then, a strange calm. The whispers, the Force, was strong here... somewhere...

That was when I noticed I couldn't see Yasmyn anymore. I'd stopped, while the others had gone ahead. I turned towards this feeling and saw a woman, much older than me but less gray than the General. She had a kind, knowing smile and eyes that bore right into mine.

"Umila Tekka," I said, not raising my voice above a whisper. I knew she heard me though, through words or the Force.

"Iliana," She gestured to the seat next to her in a secluded booth.

I pushed through the crowd and slid in across from her. Neither of us said anything for a long minute, until Yasmyn came bursting through the crowd, panting heavily, "There you are!" She sat down next to me, the other Resistance members filing around and serving as almost a curtain to the rest of the bar, "Don't run off like that, Iliana! Leia would have my head if anything happened to you."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Yasmyn," Umila said in a pleasant, slow voice, "I'm glad you've brought young Iliana."

"Do you have what we need?" Yasmyn's voice dropped, "The General spent a lot to find you. Time, money, men-"

"You brought the girl, which was my only price," Umila smiled. But then, at the same time as a strange uneasiness settled in my stomach, she frowned, "But not here. At my hotel room. Lest something... slip and be overheard."

Yasmyn eyed the woman as Umila's eyes slid to the left. I didn't follow them as obviously as the Resistance men. Instead, I let the whispers guide me, consciousness opening wide and encompassing the whole of the gross bar. A man was staring at us. Not out of place in look or demeanor, but I could see his mind. We'd been tailed. Recognized.

"... I shouldn't have come here."

"Look harder, child. Feel more; it's not you this time."

And so I did, because the whispers instructed the same. The Force showed me the truth. The man - men, as I saw he wasn't alone - were focused on Umila. Not us. The Resistance weren't the only ones looking for her.

"Alright then," Yasmyn must have gotten something out of our exchange, because she slid out of the booth and held out a hand for the older woman, "Shall we?" Then, to the men, "Fan out. Run interference; I'll send word for reinforcements once we get to... wherever this hotel is."

They nodded and weaved into the crowd. Then the world sped up, and by the time the First Order spies realized what was happening, Yasmyn, Umila, and I were out the bar door already. The older woman led us through the dark and dusty streets of lower Coruscant. I could feel the claws and teeth of First Order wolves  _everywhere_. How hadn't I felt it before? Why hadn't the whispered warned me as usual? But Umila knew better, and we weren't stopped once. Her hotel was small, blocky, and decrepit. We breezed through the entry, trying hard to look nonchalant, up a few flights of stairs, and into a small room with a single bed and dresser.

"We won't be disturbed here for at least a few moments," Umila said.

Yasmyn raced to the window, peering through the blinds, and cursed, "I have to inform the Resistance. We'll need reinforcements. You didn't... tell anyone about our meeting, did you?"

"The First Order has as many spies in the Resistance as the Resistance has in the First Order," Umila shrugged, "I did not need to. Go, have your moment, but not a long one."

Yasmyn cursed again and already had her communicator in hand when Umila added, "The hall would be a better place. You will see if anyone comes up."

She froze, slack-jawed for a moment, then snarled, "Did you just-?!"

"No harm, no harm," Umila chuckled. She was... too at ease with all this, "I knew you were too strong-willed, but I do need a moment with Iliana, please. I'll tell you everything after that."

What could she want with me? How did she even  _know_  me? Yasmyn started to argue, obviously offended at the failed mind trick. I smiled awkwardly, "It's okay, Yasmyn. Call the Resistance; it's not like she can  _hurt_  me, you know."

Yasmyn sighed, shot the middle-aged woman a weary look, and left as her communicator connected, "This is Yasmyn. We need-"

"I've seen you in the Force," Umila waited only long enough for the door to close, "You are close to Master Luke's nephew, Ben. You have feelings for him."

I hadn't expected that, "I-I-"

"I am stating fact. The Force has told me it's true," Umila sat on the bed, cross-legged, "Sometimes the Force shows us the future. Sometimes, the past. Master Luke always though I was strong with the latter. Said it made me... eccentric."

"What do you want with me?"

"Nothing but you here. Now."

My eyes narrowed. Then widened as horror settled in my stomach, "You knew the First Order was after you too." My back thudded against the wall by the window, "You... you brought me to them!"

"Yes and no," Umila's voice and demeanor didn't change. Even the whispers were silent. And in their silence, I felt fear. They were rarely silent, especially when I was in danger. Was I? Was I in danger? "The Resistance wants to know where Master Luke is. I don't know, but I know who does."

"Who?"

Umila stood and went to the window, looking outside for a second before smiling, "I was helping Luke with his research. My father found something, the last piece he needed to decipher data and find the first Jedi Temple."

"Do you have it? This data?"

"No," She shook her head. Too serene for my liking, "But my father, Lor San Tekka does. He is on Jakku. Remember that, and tell no one but the Resistance. Tell no one but Leia. The map key Leia needs is with my father. Lor San Tekka. On Jakku." Umila looked at me then, eyes locking mine with a sudden seriousness, "Lor San Tekka. On Jakku. No matter what, only tell the Resistance."

This information was supposed to be for Yasmyn. Not me. But I didn't have time to think about it. The whispers assaulted me out of nowhere, blaring and pounding in my head as, before my eyes, a blaster shot went through the window and into the woman's stomach.

"No!" I caught her as she fell, crashing to the dingy floor. There was commotion outside, blaster fire, and a loudly cursing Yasmyn.

"Don't go to her; she will be fine," Umila reached for me, hands grasping at my cheeks, "I knew the shot was coming. I'd seen it."

"Why? Why wouldn't you... try to stop it?!"

"Death is nothing to fear," She smiled, corners of her lips now dripping blood, "The shot was an accident. A panicked spy. They will be disciplined for it. But you- go there." She pointed a long finger at the bed, "Hide under it. Blend in; the Force has shown me you can. They will not find you."

My hands shook. She pushed herself up, wincing at the red stain growing on her belly, "I-I-" What was going on? This was supposed to be simple. I didn't want to get involved. But I did. I did, and now I was here. The hotel was too tall to go out the window. Yasmyn was outside. I could hear blasters and running feet below us. Screams. So many screams. Voices crying out, silenced, the heavy footfalls of uniformed feet-

"Go. Now." Umila pushed me aside and stood tall under the power of the Force, "Remember; Lor San Tekka on Jakku. Tell no one but the Resistance, no matter what happens."

"I-I don't want to get involved. I-"

"Remember," She gripped the side of my head, "And this would hurt if you were not... you. I apologize."

"What-?"

Umila slammed my head into the wall, the Force propelling her hand. I jumped away, the world spinning for a minute, "What the he-?!"

"You will thank me soon."

And then I felt it. A familiar feeling. A presence that wanted me, searched for me... knew I was here.

I was under the bed in half a second. Dissipate yourself, Iliana. I won't be found here. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am the Force of this planet, the background of life and chaos of Coruscant. I am free in soul. I am free.

The door blew open, though I didn't so much as flinch. I wasn't in my body; I was in the walls, the floorboards, the cracked ceiling tiles. Something clicked on in Umila's hand; a lightsaber, glowing a brilliant orange. White boots - stormtroopers - came in and she felled them. Practiced grace learned from the last Jedi. The presence I knew to be Kylo Ren drew closer - was he in the hotel now? So close, but I was dissipated. He knew I was here - had been here at some point - but not where.

Glass shattered. Wild blaster shots had broken the window. And then, Umila was gone. Quick lies to Yasmyn about me escaping through the window - to my relief, Yasmyn sounded fine - and then collapse. Umila's strength was gone.

I almost called out to Yasmyn, but the sounds of blaster fire returned. More First Order in the building. I could feel them, along with  _him_. So I kept silent. I kept dissipated in the Force. And then Yasmyn was gone. Which way, I couldn't tell. And his presence grew nearer still. The whispers began to scream to move. To stay within the walls and Force of Coruscant, but to move my body.

Three stormtroopers were in the room. One decapitated by a lightsaber, another with a chest wound, and a third with a blaster mark through the fabric between the helmet and chest armor. I looked out the window; I was too high up to trust using the Force to slow my descent. The fighting was growing below. Stalling the search in the upper floors of the hotel. I could smell the death beginning to permeate the air.

So I did the first thing that came to mind, urged on by the whispers. The body with the neck wound was smaller than the rest. About my size, and as I removed her helmet, I cringed. Female, brown hair like mine and lifeless eyes a few shades darker blue. The designation FN-1929 was stamped on some parts of her blaster and armor. My hands shook. My mind couldn't comprehend what I was doing until it was halfway done. I stripped the dead stormtrooper and rolled the body - swallowing back bile - underneath the bed. Then, acutely aware of the battle dying down in the First Order's favor, I slipped the worn armor on myself. It fit, not perfectly, but well enough. Then, to sell the illusion, I took the blaster, held the tip of the barrel against my neck where the blaster mark was, and fired. The shot went into the wall, but the heat of the end of the barrel did the job. I could feel the skin break and burn, enough to leave a mark but not deep enough to be life threatening.

Taking up the same position the stormtrooper had, I waited, feigning unconsciousness. And I could feel Kylo's anger below me. The feet of stormtroopers, someone stopping outside. Checking Umila's body, then calling back for someone to inform Kylo Ren. A few moments later, his anger grew. It was thick, palatable. And it fueled me to dissipate further. Nothing to see here, Kylo Ren. Iliana is long gone. No trace of the Force here.

When he tried to find me through our connection, I shut him out. The last thing I needed was him to see me in stormtrooper armor.

"This one's alive, sir," Arms hauled me up. I made a show of coming to, "Neck damaged. Can you walk, stormtrooper?"

I nodded, swaying a moment to sell the illusion, then stood straight as a rod. I gave a salute as close to what I remembered from Hallaport as I could. Stormtroopers surrounded me. At least they seemed to buy it.

I fell in step behind them, biting my lip underneath the armor until I tasted copper again. The hotel was littered with bodies of mostly patrons. Only a couple troopers, outside those that attacked Yasmyn and Umila. Thankfully, Yasmyn wasn't among the bodies. I felt Kylo grow closer and closer... and then further. Searching outside the building, in the streets and alleyways around it. In the corner of my vision as the group that led me I swore I saw the black of his cloak. I could feel his rage.

_'Where are you?'_

I didn't dare to answer, swallowing back apprehension and fear. Troopers were stopping civilians in the streets. A smaller vessel, enough for a single platoon of troopers - maybe two - hovered just outside the hotel. I didn't have the chance to sneak out, not with all these people - First Order and Coruscant alike - around me. The troopers that found me passed me off to an officer of some sort who looked over my neck wound and grunted. They gestured to the landing ramp of the ship, and the full weight of what I'd done fell on me. I'd hoped that the troopers would have left me behind. They did to the other two corpses, and didn't seem to be taking any others back either. I hadn't done enough; my wounds looked too superficial. Unlike most injured stormtroopers who were left behind to die, I was being brought back like the rest. Onto a First Order ship. To be treated.

What have I done?

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  So keep a secret? Totally been just sitting on 2.5 completed chapters for a while xD:;;

**Review Replies:**

DarknessEvernight13: Eheheh... I've just been sitting on multiple chapters because life caught up with me. Also didn't realize that the previous chapter hadn't uploaded correctly months ago xD;;


	9. Hidden In Plain Sight

**Disclaimer:**  I only put my OC through the angst-train

* * *

Chapter 8

**Hidden In Plain Sight**

_"Through my mind, is just the horror of these people. I had been held by them, I knew how violent they were."_

_Patty Hearst_

* * *

A starship, especially the small one I was shuffled on to, jostles on take-off. Your stomach falls, feet glued to the floor, your whole body almost feeling like it's magnetized to the ground and frozen in place. Then, as the atmosphere in the ship stabilizes and the inertial dampeners kick in, everything settles down.

It seemed the First Order didn't care enough about the troopers to install good dampeners in the crew hold.

I was unceremoniously dumped with a couple other lightly injured troopers. Trying as hard as I could to be inconspicuous, I mimicked the others. Strangely, they weren't groaning from pain. No twitching and general belly-aching that usually came with the wounded. I always assumed that was because they felt pain. Then I caught the eye of one of the troopers, and felt his distress through the whispers. They felt pain, sure as anyone else not broken like me. They were just perfectly trained never to show it.

The constant vibrating and jostling of the crew hold made it harder to think. Only the injured troopers were permitted to sit, so all I saw was a sea of white in every direction. Thankfully, I wasn't on Kylo's transport.

_'Where are you?'_

I shut him out. Not here. I couldn't risk Kylo appearing here, now, and seeing me in a troopers uniform when he'd just come from somewhere he  _had_  to know I've been.

He was angry. I could feel the wrath through our... bond. That's what it was. A true bond forming between Force users that have yet to meet in person, save a few times as children. But children did not rage like this. Not this... purely. This... desperately.

_'You were **there**. You were  **there**  but I didn't find a shred of evidence of it-!'_

I couldn't keep him from my mind. My walls, no matter how tall and thick, were little to the force of his desperation. It took everything I had to keep him from manifesting. To keep him in my head.

I didn't answer him, and Kylo Ren raged on.

* * *

When the transport jostled hard and stilled, it felt like my stomach was around the level of my feet. What was I going to do? The landing pad opened, spilling light in that bloomed off the pristine armor. As the healthy troopers stepped off, one with a medical insignia entered and helped the injured out with a few others. I flinched at the brightness of the landing bay - why did it have to be so  _bright_? - but once my eyes adjusted, the enormity of it all hit me like a blaster shot.

I was on board a high ranking First Order vessel, wearing stormtrooper armor, when the whole First Order was both looking for me and obviously the information that I now carried; information they didn't know I had. The last wish of woman who knew she was going to die was that this information gets to the Resistance. And here I was, in the jaws of the enemy. Hiding in plain sight.

The medical officer didn't say a word to any of the injured until we entered the white and sterile medical bay. There were many beds, but few in use. Some doors to more private quarters for injured high ranking officers I assumed, and identical beds for those troopers lucky enough not to be left behind. As I was set down, I bit back a curse; if only I'd been unlucky.

The medical personnel went through us quickly, and thankfully I wasn't first so I could imitate the other troopers. Since the injury was on my neck, I didn't need to remove my helmet.

"Designation?"

What was the number? I couldn't look down at my armor, and wracked my brain. Just as the officer asked again, the whispers reminded me, "FN-1929."

The officer, a man with salt and pepper hair, punched something into a data pad, "Female, age 19... two previous infractions, recommended reconditioning upon a third offense..." My eyes widened. The dead trooper was only nineteen? So young... and reconditioning? Back in Hallaport, that was only whispered about. Nothing ever good either. I would need to tread even  _more_  carefully. Maybe if I was lucky, I could keep up the charade long enough to get deployed out on a mission and could escape then.

But how do I pretend to be a stormtrooper?

"Your wound is not life-threatening," The man mumbled, "Remove your helmet for treatment."

I couldn't help it. I hesitated. His eyes narrowed and I gulped noisily. Seeing no way out, I lifted my hands slowly while repeating a mantra in my head,  _'Please don't keep detailed records of trooper appearance. Please don't keep detailed records of trooper appearance.'_

If they did, the man didn't show it. He forced my head to the side and applied bacta and a bandage, "Return at 06:00 tomorrow for reapplication, and the day after that."

"Yes, sir," I nodded once and, mimicking the other troopers, reached for the helmet. I heard a few instructed to return to the crew barracks, and made to follow them out. A wave of not-quite nausea hit me.

The man stopped me, "FN-1929."

I froze, "... Yes, sir?"

"You are not dismissed. You have a head injury," His eyes narrowed. Not angrily, more like he was analyzing me, "You and you, bring her to the CT machine."

I'd almost forgotten Umila slamming my head into the wall. The orderlies led me with the doctor to a large machine and helped me undress. I was instructed to lay on a cold slab that slowly went into the machine. There was a buzzing and it all lasted too long for my liking. Then it was over, and the man said the words that lifted a lot of worry from my shoulders, "She has a mild concussion. Fetch an analgesic from storage. I am prescribing a week of rest and then an assessment."

Now I realized why Umila did what she did. She'd seen this, too. And given me some breathing room through an injury that necessitated rest and rehab, giving me time to learn how to be a trooper or escape completely. And it wasn't like I would feel the headache anyway...

The annoyingly bright lights and the nausea suddenly made sense.

The officer finally sent me on my way, with the escort of another trooper to the barracks a few hours later. A bottle of analgesic pills in one hand and another bandage around my head. I fought a bit to get the helmet back one and considered walking without it, using the injury as an excuse. As we rounded a corner, I was glad I hadn't.

The Force, the whispers, they didn't prepare me for the sheer  _feeling_  of him. He walked with purpose down the hall, black-gloved hands balled and cloak whipping menacingly behind him. Kylo Ren, in the flesh, less than a few feet away.

In my state, I was open to the full feeling of him. In his rage, he stomped right passed me.

It wasn't until I was long gone, entering the barracks with my escort, than I felt a tremor. Then, a voice in the back of my mind,  _'... I feel you. Why?'_

I ignored him and searched the hallway. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this; instead of racks of bunks, there were small cubby-like things built directly into the walls. Every so often paths cut left and right, likely leading to more pods. Each had curtains and just enough room to sit up, along with a ladder for climbing to the ones further up. As I passed and sneaked a few glances, I saw that vertically between each pod was drawers that opened outward, designed to be opened from the bunks themselves.

Better and better; I could undress in the pods without anyone seeing me, and stash the armor in the cubbies. And each were labeled, in order, starting with "FN". It took a while, but I found the cubby of my armor's... previous owner. It blissfully on floor level, the drawers for armor storage ending at about mid thigh. I clambered ungracefully into the pod, drew the curtain, and just sat there for the longest time.

My nausea subsided somewhat with the blessed darkness in the pod. There was a few buttons in one corner that I tested; one bathed the pod in a dim blue light, another opened a small viewing screen broadcasting space, another changed the channel to propaganda, another changed it to a stormtrooper operations manual - thank the Force - and the last opened a small drawer in the wall. With a start, I realized that this, unlike the large one for armor, was for whatever meager personal effects the trooper had.

I slammed that drawer shut, feeling disgusted. I knew I would need to look through it, if only to glimpse the life of the girl I was now pretending to be, but not yet. So instead, I peeled each layer of armor off and dumped them in the drawers beneath the pod. A strange humming came from that drawer; was it being repaired or clean? Troopers always did look in top shape, all angles and pristine whiteness. It made sense at least, if it was all done with machines or droids.

It was too quiet, I realized as I turned back over to the manual. Standard propaganda, most of it, but the useful bits were on stance and proper address. And a map. Blissfully, a  _map_. And FN-1929's schedule, altered with 'her' injury. I was to stay on bedrest to start. Gave me enough time to look over all of this, at least. And then, after two weeks as so long as I didn't get a third 'infraction', 'she' was scheduled to go on another mission against the Resistance on Dantooine. That was my chance.

Still, the  _quiet_. There was no talking, no socializing. Curiosity got the better of me when I heard footsteps, so peered out of the edge of the curtains. Some troopers drew their curtains, others didn't bother, and from those that didn't I saw the saddest thing. They laid on their backs, hands clasped in their laps, nearly all of them staring up at the propaganda channel. Yet there was no noise from their pods; was there some sort of noise dampener on the pods, so the only sound heard in a pod would be that of one's own noise?

That explained the quiet, at least.

I spent hours committing as much of the map to memory as I could. I was on the  _Finalizer,_ Kylo's flagship. It made sense, but didn't ease my worry. So I was careful to keep my Force signature as dissipated as possible. Spent hours just meditating, feeling, expanding beyond the hollow, sterile death of the First Order ship into the cosmos beyond it. The ship left Coruscant after a half day, spending a good while in hyperspace before exiting at a large gas giant.

The whispers tugged me in one direction of the ship on occasion, but I fought as hard as I could for as long as I could. I knew what who was there.

Finally, I couldn't any longer. His agony and anger were too much to bare. And anger is powerful when channeled; he might even see through my wallflower-like abilities and find me in the little pod, one among hundreds of thousands.

When I found him, his back was to me. He was helmet-less and facing a table of ashes on which stood a sinister half-melted helmet. The whispers told me who it was; Darth Vader's, plucked from his funeral pyre on Endor. It was strange; usually, I could only see him. Now, it was as if I was actually there in his room; I could move around without moving myself in the pod. A perfect projection.

"You're coming to see me for once?"

I nodded, and when I spoke in my mind in the pod, the words came in this form like speech. What was this? Could I just... project now? "Well, you were pretty insistent in wanting to find me on Coruscant."

"So you  _were_  there," He stood and turned, "Why didn't... you..."

Kylo stared for a long while, eyes raking over me. Then he covered his mouth with one hand and turned his head away, "... is this a joke?"

I couldn't risk him seeing anything identifying me as hiding out as a trooper, which ruled out the armor  _and_  accompanying undergarments. I was in only my underwear. A blush crept up my cheeks and it was my turn to look away and mumble, "Sorry, Kylo."

"Don't- don't auhh apologize, that is..." he coughed, "Do you have a robe? A towel or something?"

I laughed nervously, "Sorry. I can leave...?"

"No!"

It was too quick, too panicking, and I started, "... Kylo?"

He strode over to me in three long strides. I debated backing away from his intense stare, but decided to stand my ground instead, "Why do you have to keep running from me?"

"I want to be free," Hadn't I explained this a thousand times before? "I can't be free in the First Order. Especially not as a Force sensitive."

"I would protect you," His eyes trailed down and he took one of my hands in his. I didn't miss how Kylo's eyes lingered on my body, or the rosiness of his cheeks, "Force, Iliana; if you just came to me, I would let you do whatever you wanted. You would be mine, and-"

"That's exactly it," I put my other hand over his, "You don't get it, Kylo. I don't belong to anyone. We haven't even  _met_ physically, sans a few times as kids." He tried to interrupt but I kept going, "And you don't have the power to protect me from what your Order wants."

His lips pursed and I drove the knife in deeper, "You have no  _power_  to stop Supreme Leader Snoke from doing whatever he wants to me."

"The Supreme Leader is wise," There was conflict in his eyes. Usually, that would worry me. Now, it was useful, "He wishes for you to be my apprentice."

"Apprentice is the same thing as weapon to the First Order."

"You wouldn't-"

"You're lying!" I tore my hand out of his and stood back. I poked my chest, "I can  _feel_ it in the Force, Kylo! Snoke would make me into a weapon. He would make me into  _you_ , going on missions and hunting people down and murder and-"

"I wouldn't let him-"

"You wouldn't do a damn thing about it!" Now I stepped up, chest to chest with the Knight of Ren, and stabbed a finger into his collarbone, "Snoke wants power and order. You want power and order. Obedience. Conformity. Do you want me to conform, Kylo?" I stared right in his eyes, feeling my own water, "Do you want me to stop being Iliana, and just some weapon to be ordered around and used?!"

Kylo was silent for a long time after that. Whether speechless or just thinking, I didn't know, but when the proximity finally got to me and my own anger subsided, I tried to step back. His hand locked around my wrist, and Kylo's shoulders sagged, "You would be safest with me."

"I don't want safety if it means I stop being who I am."

With that, I left the Knight of Ren, cold and alone in his quarters, and woke from my trance equally alone in a barracks pod of the same ship.

* * *

Everything was going well until it wasn't. I was in trooper armor any time I left the pod - I was right in that the drawers were actually for cleaning and repairing the stormtrooper armor through the use of chemicals and droids - which was only to get food and shower. Thankfully the showers weren't communal, though the stalls were tiny and more decontamination chamber than shower. Kylo didn't appear to me, though he tried talking. I would always shut him out. If he couldn't see that I was better off free than with the First Order, that was on him.

I kept to the doctor-provided schedule. Rehab in the clinic, analgesic medication, training. The latter of which was the worst part, because I'd never shot a blaster before in my life. And apparently, FN-1929 was a pretty decent shot. Not good, but certainly not abysmal like me. I fell back on the excuse of my concussion, and was moved to remedial training for those who were injured for longer, or were otherwise unable to train for a long amount of time. I was also grateful for the voice distortion of the helmets; no one seemed to notice any difference there. Or asked me to take it off ever, outside rehab and check-ups. The First Order didn't seem to care, as long as I didn't give them any reason to suspect me.

Which was why everything was going so well... until, again, it wasn't.

A week passed and I noticed a change to my schedule. The assessment, to make sure I was ready for 'active duty' again. Of course, they didn't know that my plan was to bolt at the first opportunity at the first missions I was sent on. I went to the medical bay and was escorted into a small office at one end. Inside was a desk, and sitting in the desk chair was a blonde woman with a somehow simultaneously severe and soft expression. A plaque on her desk said 'Dr. Michelle Solan, Psychologist.'

"Good morning; how are you feeling, FN-1929?" She gestured to the hard looking chair in front of the desk.

"Better, ma'am," I said.

She waved a dismissive hand, "Please call me Dr. Solan. Now, FN-1929, please remove your helmet and tell me why you are here."

I hesitated a moment but quickly removed it, setting the gleaming helmet aside on the floor, "I am here for my assessment before returning to duty, Dr. Solan."

"Yes, but that is not all," Dr. Solan swiped through a datapad, "You have two infractions, the first two months ago for sloppy care of your pod and last month for interrupting another stormtroopers disciplining by Captain Phasma. And now, with a concussion, I have been informed that your shooting accuracy has suffered and that your stances, marching, and physical shape have suffered as a result."

"I will do better, ma'am."

"Of course you will, after proper reconditioning," She looked down at her papers with a smile - not cold, but not exactly warm either, "Which will begin tomorrow morning at 0900 hours."

All the color drained from my face and I felt cold. Reconditioning? "But ma'am, I haven't-"

"Are you questioning orders, FN-1929?" Dr. Solan said in a sugary tone.

Keep calm, Iliana. Keep calm, "... no, ma'am."

"I thought not. Now, I will see you at 0900 tomorrow," She looked back down, "You are dismissed, FN-1929."

I was numb from head to toe by the time I was back in the pod. I'd been so careful not to break any rules or regulations that I'd seen in the manuals, but was being sent to reconditioning anyway. When I wasn't even a trooper to being with. In Hallaport, a few in the First Order only whispered about reconditioning. It was only done to stormtroopers when they got out of line. Though what 'out of line' was and how the troopers were put back  _in_  line, I didn't know. What if it was torture? What if they realized I couldn't feel pain, like the interrogators in Hallaport had, and that got back to Kylo? What if it was psychological? What if- what if-

And suddenly I was there. In Kylo's room. Still wearing stormtrooper armor.

I gasped and pulled back, keening in the back of my throat from panic. I managed to vanish just as he'd started to turn from the ashen table.

I was back in the pod, but Kylo was in my head now. Poking, proding, even panicked. He knew something was was wrong. He knew I was in trouble. I choked back a tear. Pure emotion flooded through the bond. He wanted to -  _needed_  to - help me.

_'Lia. Where are you?'_

I didn't answer.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** There, not too long between chapters. I make no promises on the next one, though! xD

**Review Replies:**

DarknessEvernight13: Trollololol xD

drmsqnc: Tee-hee?

rhamnous & oi: Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**  I wanna see episode 9 so bad D:

* * *

Chapter Nine

**Reconditioning**

_"Is there any point in public debate in a society where hardly anyone has been taught how to think, while millions have been taught what to think?"_

_\- Peter Hitchens_

* * *

The next day I was moved to a smaller barracks. They told me I would be let back in after reconditioning. Until then, I was to stay with the other stormtroopers undergoing it. This barracks was smaller, darker in both color and lighting. No curtains concealed the fewer pods. Stormtroopers in armor emblazoned with a special insignia stood both inside and outside the only door to the room.

Then came my first session.

They brought us out all at once; maybe twenty people in identical trooper armor. Like a small sea of white in the drab classroom like space we were shuffled into. A man entered and pressed a few buttons on the wall. The lights dimmed as he spoke over a series of images projected on to the far wall.

"The First Order was reborn from the ashes of the Galactic Empire, unjustly struck down by what was once called the Rebellion," He said, "They brought disorder and chaos batck to a galaxy that, for decades, had experienced peace and order. Petty squabbling and useless conflict brought about by the natural greed and independance of sentient races. The Empire was the solution to this chaos then, as the First Order is now. Discipline, conformity, and power. Through our united cause, we will sweep through galactic space in a wave even greater than the Empire from which we came. The planets and peoples of the galaxy require guidance. Stewardship. Order through power. We are that power. We are that order."

More flashes. Grand images of Empirial battles and uniform battalions of stormtroopers as far as the eye could see.

"Through order, we seek progress. The Republic would have you believe that democracy is the answer, when it only brings choas to the world. Through the voices of many, nothing is accomplished. Evil is done when progress should prevail. Through the First Order, progress will be achieved. The Republic will be brought into order. It will be brought to kneel, for since they will not listen to logic and reason, we the First Order will make them listen."

There was something almost dizzying about the speed of the pictures. They weren't going by too fast per se, but just fast enough that it felt... off. Hadn't I seen that last one before? The man standing tall, face turned up with pride? Or the stormtroopers, leading a charge against the Rebellion back during the time of the Empire?

"You all are here because you have each transgressed against our noble cause. You will all learn the errors of your ways. Repeat after me," The man said, "We are strength."

"We are strength."

Our repeats were as a chorus; unsteady at first and almost hesitant, but with each line got stronger and stronger.

"We are order."

"We are order."

"None are more important than the whole."

"None are more important than the whole."

"We are unimportant compared to the whole."

"We are unimportant compared to the whole."

"Order is for the good of the galaxy."

"Order is for the good of the galaxy."

"Good," The man said with a smille smile that looked sinister in the dark lighting, "Supreme Leader Snoke leads us with great wisdom. Without his guidance, we would be lost. We would be worthless. We would be squabbling amongst ourselves for table scraps like those of the Republic. Under his guidance and rule, we have purpose. Repeat with me. Through order, I gain strength."

"Through order, I gain strength."

"Through the Supreme Leader, I gain meaning."

"Through the Supreme Leader, I gain meaning."

The man wouldn't stop. He just kep going on and on, talking in circles but never saying the exact same thing twice. And the repeating. Always with the repeating. The same phrases, the same words, just tweaked and reworded every few passes but always the same. We were nothing without the Order. Nothing before it's power. And in nothingness, the man said, we found purpose. In our role as a cog in the First Order machine. We were not people. I was not a person here. The First Order was a person whose brain was the Supreme Leader. And all others were organs and cells of the body. Working as one.

I was strangely dizzy at the end.

Yet we weren't allowed to leave. Not even for food or water, though it had been over half a day. Each of us were called by number to file through a back door as I fought to keep a gnawing sensation from overwhelming my stomach. The repetition wouldn't leave my mind. We are unimportant compared to the whole. Nothing is more important than the whole. Through the Supreme Leader, I gain meaning. Through the Supreme Leader-

"FN-1929."

I shot out of my seat and tried to mimic the gait of the others I'd seen leaving. Under my helmet, I bit my lip. Why was I so... anxious? They couldn't hurt me. Not physically anyway. But my palms sweat underneath ballistic mesh gloves. Breath quickened, shallow but fast. As the doorway opened, something reached out to my mind. Worried, calming.

Despite my fear, I threw Kylo's presence out on reflex. He couldn't know.

Two troopers led me down a hall of rooms to one at the end. They were small, modular, with a spartan look and an officer at the far side of a small desk. She gestured to the seat in front of the desk with a grin as I was half shoved inside by the guards. Her nametag read 'Janet Gorwell' and underneath that 'Reconditioning Specialist'.

"Good evening, FN-1929," she said as I sat down, "Do you understand why you've been sent to Reconditioning?"

"N-not really, ma'am."

"Remove your helmet; I would rather converse with your face, FN-1929," How could someone be so... smile-y in such a drab, depressing place?

I hesitated. Her head tilted to the side and her smile grew a tiny amount. Almost sinister now. I couldn't get my helmet off fast enough, scared of what that smile could bring. She leaned forward a bit, elbows on her desk, "Good. You are here, FN-1929, because you twice defied orders prior to your deployment on the Coruscant mission. You know that the rule is a third strike is automatic referral to Reconditioning, yes?" I didn't, but nodded anyway, "Your third was a horrible regression of discipline and shooting accuracy after your injury. That combined with the previous infractions has resulted in you being here."

She slid a pad of paper and a pen across the desk. I stared at it; even back in Hallaport, physical medium was rarely used to write, "Lean forward and take the pen."

I almost asked why, stopping myself just shy by remembering where I was. Why I needed to be careful here. So I took the pen and she continued, "Write this: 'I have failed the First Order'." I did so quickly, "Again." I wrote it again, "Again." And again. "Write until I tell you to stop, FN-1929."

She didn't tell me to stop. She left the room, 'kindly' reminding me of the cameras in every corner. Anxiety shot through me; would Kylo see it? Would he-?

Something jabbed me in the leg. A small shock rod; not painful of course but it reminded me not to stop writing. I jumped for good measure, so they wouldn't get suspicious.

The table was soon covered in paper. All baring the same words. A trooper brought in a stack of paper and left without a word. And so I kept writing, equally in silence.

I have failed the First Order

I have failed the First Order.

I have failed-

"You may cease, FN-1929," I jumped; when had Dr. Gorwell come in? "The troopers outside will lead you to new quarters for the duration of your stay in Reconditioning."

"New quarters?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Troopers are not meant to question. Dismissed."

"Yes ma'am."

The troopers took me wordlessly to a room down the hall filled with pods. Smaller and fewer than the main sleeping quarters, and far too bright. No one spoke, as we'd been instructed to never speak unless spoken to. Men guarding the entrance held electrified rods as a reminder for what happens to those who disobey.

We were instructed to strip off all armor. It would be given back upon completion of reconditioning. There were about twenty of us in the room, all of different sizes and types, stripped to our requisition underwear. Each pod had no privacy screens like the normal ones.

Inside my new pod was bright lights and propaganda displays. And a strange... buzzing sound. Like insects right around my ears. I tossed and turned. Was it designed to keep us awake? Exhausted, so we'd be more open to suggestions? To weaken the mind?

By the third day, I felt fear. Gorwell talked of nothing but my failure - not knowing I wasn't even the real FN-1929. They didn't let us sleep. They fed us on crackers and bread. I didn't feel pain, but the anguish and steadily broken nature of the other troopers in reconditioning seeped into my mind. They were tortured, and as we were told over and over again, we deserved it for our failure.

They made us fight each other. Training, to fix perceived weaknesses. And I was the worst, not even toned as a trooper to begin with. Thankfully my acting skills came in handy when I was knocked around for not holding a blaster right or failing to block properly.

Sometimes I was taken by Gorwell to write lines. The same ones as in the beginning. About my failure to the glorious Order. My hands were raw, red, and in some places cracked and bleeding, between hand to hand combat and the writing. When my hands cramped, I was shocked for stopping.

Every day, he encroached on my mind. The pain of those around me and their horrifying descent into numbness and silence made my own mind weak. At first, I tried dissipation and meditation. That worked, until the first screams.

I clutched at my chest after a week. Someone nearby was in agony, so much agony. They screamed out into the Force, higher and higher, and then... were gone. Suddenly silenced.

"Keep writing, FN-1929."

I knew better than to question now. Someone was dead. I didn't need to ask.

That night, two were missing from Reconditioning. In the minds of those around me I gleaned that only one body bag was taken away. Must have been a failure of reconditioning, and the other a success. Others left too, over time. Either through escort or in a body bag.

Kylo's presence was constant. It took everything left in me to keep him from manifesting. It was inevitable now. He would find me. Or what was left.

No clocks in reconditioning. No sleep, no strength. Just weakness. Weakness and pain that even someone like me could feel. The only hope lying in the vids. Vids about the glory of the First Order.

It began to make sense after the dozenth watching. Or was it just the fifth? It didn't matter. I didn't matter. Nothing mattered or compared to the might of the First Order.

How many days had it been? An hour of sleep here, gruel on a good day, writing my failures and above all else, silence. Because troopers do not speak unless ordered. We are the unimportant masses. Only important in reference to the great First Order. We were to speak when spoken to, ask no questions, have no lives, and be grateful for the chance to fight and bleed and die for the righteous cause of the First Order. To bring order to a galaxy that lacked it, all under the benevolent guidance of the Supreme Leader.

When I failed to exceed expectations in hand to hand combat, I was tasered. When I showed emotion, when I spoke out of turn, I was tasered. I felt nothing, of course, but it wasn't just me who was punished. We were all punished for our failure, and the collective pain and eventual numbness of those around me grew. As it grew, so did my own, deep within myself. Because through the Force, I felt them. The whispers were cries of anguish, pain, and sudden silence before yet another pair vanished from reconditioning. An endless cycle, always reminded of our failure to protect and promote the order of the First Order.

"You are done writing, FN-1929."

I set down the pen, staring forward. No voices entered my mind anymore. There was nothing there to see. Gorwell regarded me a moment, "You have made remarkable progress, FN-1929." I said nothing. I was gone within myself. Unimportant to the might of the First Order.

"Come with me. There is one last thing for you to do before reassignment."

Gorwell took me to a room. Medium sized, bare. In the center, on his knees, a stormtrooper in only his undergarments. He was flanked by two in full armor. Gorwell took the blaster from one and held it out to me. I took it.

"FN-2573 failed their reconditioning; they have not sufficiently recanted their transgressions," Gorwell said, real disgust in her tone, "He is a cancer within the body of the First Order. He must be purged."

He must be purged. It was obvious what that meant.

"FN-1929, eradicate the cancer."

How long did I stare at the blaster in my hands? It was new, fresh and sleek. Unlike the man, looking to be in his thirties. His eyes were glazed, jaw slackened. I could almost taste the taint of sedation through the Force. Likely he fought too much against reconditioning, and they medicated him instead. He wasn't handcuffed.

Now I knew why for every stormtrooper to leave reconditioning, to another left as a corpse.

To show renewed adherence to the First Order, one had to show loyalty and purge those against us.

As Gorwell said, a cancer.

I leveled the blaster, muzzle settling on the man's forehead between his eyes.

He was so strung out on sedatives he wouldn't feel a thing.

"FN-1929, you have been given an order."

For the glory and righteous cause of the First Order.

Yet my finger was frozen on the trigger. The man, in a lucid moment, looked up at me, "Who... are you?"

It felt like cold water dumped over my head. I was FN-1929. But I also wasn't. Part of the First Order, but not. Loyal to... whom? Who am I?

The whispers told me who I was. What they were trying to make me forget.

The next moments were a blur. The stormtroopers were there, then they slumped over at the other end of the room, thrown by the Force. Gorwell stumbled, then bolted for the door. I launched her out and, with a swipe of the hand, wrenched the sliding door shut and threw all my mind behind denting the steel so it couldn't open again. Then, I fell to my knees in front of the drugged out man. Not a stormtrooper. A man. Because underneath those featureless white husks were people.

I am Iliana. I am not a First Order pawn.

"I won't hurt you," It didn't matter that he couldn't understand me, as strung out on sedatives as he was. It was more for myself than anything. The chamber was strangely quiet, the two troopers knocked out against the far wall. I stood slowly, deliberately, and took their guns. They wouldn't stay that way forever, "No one can make me do what I don't want to."

I set the blasters down by the door and knelt, back to the door and facing the man. It would take them some time to breath through the thick metal of the door. No doubt Kylo felt the burst of Force energy just now. As I took several deep breaths, the sound of running feet in the far distance came to me. The whispers were, for the first time, silent on caution, even knowing there was no way I could escape facing Kylo Ren now. There were no other exits. No vents, no cabinets, no beds to hide under.

I merely sat there, breathing deep as I, one by one, let everything the First Order tried to beat into me slip away. The thoughts and images and all the propaganda was still there, buzzing like locusts at the forefront of my mind. But I had to try. I would continue to try.

Then it was... strange. Through the fog of my mind and the battlefield going on there, words came to me. Similar to all those that floated around in the whispers all my life.

"The Force is all things and I am the Force."

There was banging at the door now. Voices, urgent and loud. In the distance I heard my name from lips that both thrilled and terrified me.

"The Force is all things and I am the Force."

I would not like the First Order break me. I would not let the Resistance tame me. I am no one's but my own. I would do things because I felt them right, not because of the glory of the First Order. Because I felt them right.

"The Force is all things and I am the Force."

There were... more words than that. Amorphous, intangible, but there all the same. I would need to ask Kylo for a data pad to record them, if I could clear my thoughts. Something between the dichotomy of Light and Dark, and stronger than both.

There was heat at my back. Just the slightest shift in the atoms of the air. As I fought in my mind, I felt that it wouldn't be long now. A lightsaber was slicing at the pace of a snail through the steel itself. Kylo's presence, of course, was behind it. He knew I was in here. He knew exactly where I was.

So I stood, waiting as the thick slab of steel fell into my silence with a resounding thud that reverberated all over the room they had wanted me to commit murder in.

And I turned, looking at Kylo Ren straight in the eyes with a small but weary smile, "Hello, Kylo."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yes, they're meeting in person. Yes, I'm an asshole who isn't going to show you the actual meeting until the next chapter D

**Review Replies:**

drmsqnc: Yeah, anything with the name "reconditioning" sounds like something delightfully Orwellian.

Azera: I haven't decided, but probably not and if so, just in passing. I'm planning for the story to extend at least through The Last Jedi, but want to impact the movie's plots as little as possible. It's more likely that she'll have interactions at the periphery of events rather than in the middle of them, because she's doing her own thing. If it wasn't obvious though, she will be the source of the Resistance finding out where Lor San Tekka is.


End file.
